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76 




Copyright, 1909, 
<y Eugene A. Perry 



By permission of The Pei'ry Pictures Company, 
Maiden, Mass. 



JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 



Classics in the Grades 

SNOW-BOUND 

AND OTHER POEMS 



JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 



WITH BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
AND EXPLANATORY NOTES 



BY 

A. J. DEMAREST, A. M. 

Superintendent of Schools, Hoboken, N. J. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

CHRISTOPHER SOWER COMPANY 
124 N. Eighteenth Street 



7 S z^iL 
If// 



Copyright, 1911, by 
Christopher Sower Company 



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€CU292183 



PRi:FATORY NOTE TO THE TEACHER 



Before the reading of ''Snow-bound" is taken up for class 
work, the teacher should make a careful study of Whittier's 
life in order to give a correct interpretation of this great master- 
piece. With the addition of a few notes and dates, much of 
the life of Whittier may be compiled from his poems. While 
"Snow-bound" will appeal to the ordinary reader, yet for a 
study of it, such as may be required for the class-room, some 
preliminary work is essential. This critical study should be 
of a two-fold character: first, the foundations upon which the 
author built his story, which includes the life of the author, 
some information of the group that surrounded the fireside, and 
the environment of the Whittier family; and second, references 
to poems of other authors, similar in character, with which por- 
tions of ''Snow-bound" may be compared and contrasted. 
Any one of the admirable biographies of Whittier will supply 
the necessary info-'mation, but for the convenience of the teacher 
a brief sketch of the Whittier family is given on page 81. 

It should not be forgotten that the background of "Snow- 
bound" is not only biographical, but all the characters de-' 
scribed were real persons. In a sterile section of the country, 
isolated from all the advantages of the city, even from their 
country neighbors, they lived the life of simple-minded, kind- 
hearted farmers. The deep feelings of these people, with their 
strange mixture of stern enthusiasm, austere piety, and open 
hospitality, stand out in strong contrast with their surroundings. 
Goodness, self-abnegation, courage are the prominent traits of 
Whittier's character that should be emphasized. 

5 



PREFATORY NOTE TO THE TEACHER 



OUTLINE FOR CLASS READING 

The appreciation of a classic improves with each reading and 
this poem should be read by the class at least three times. 



First Reading 

The first step in the reading of any classic is to read it as a 
whole for the purpose of permitting the student to get the thread 
of the story. In no sense should this reading be used as a formal 
reading lesson. We shall make an inevitable failure if we 
attempt to teach reading in connection with literary appreciation 
of a classic. The first lessons, then, should require merely an 
intelligent reading of the poem. The poem should be read aloud 
in a pleasing manner to get a good understanding and apprecia- 
tion of the story. Each day's lesson should be so planned that 
it will stop at some interesting place in order to keep up a sus- 
tained interest on the part of the class. When we have read and 
have grasped the poem as a whole, we are ready for the second 
reading. 

Second Reading 

In reading the poem a second time, we should aim to study 
the mechanical means by which the author secured his effects. 
In this detailed study, the teacher should do all of the reading, 
planning each day's lesson so that it will stop at some logical 
place in the story. During the second reading, the student 
should form clear conceptions of — 

(a) The Characters.— Are the people in the poem life-like? Are 
they real? Can you see them? Can j^ou call up a mental pic- 
ture of the group around the fireside? What are the prominent 
traits of each character? Has this poem a hero? a heroine? 
Which is your favorite character? Why? 

(b) The Setting. — Where is the scene of this poem laid? At 
what time of the year? What helps you to determine the season 
of the year? Are the home and environment of this family 



PREFATORY NOTE TO THE TEACHER 7 

vividly portrayed? Can you see this old farm-house? the 
pale sun forcing its way through a cloud of freezing mist? the 
hills of grey? the frozen brook? Does the poet mention any 
"local color," that is, objects, customs and costumes peculiar 
to the time and place? Do the descriptions of nature surpass the 
delineations of personal portraits? Select the best descriptions 
-of nature. Are there any needless strokes in the picture of the 
snow storm? Do snow storms come in a similar way in the place 
where you live? Note the varied pictures, skilfully introduced, 
of New England life and nature at all seasons. Place special 
emphasis on the fact that the snow storm is used as a back- 
ground for the telling of the story. Be sure to get a good, 
vivid picture of the exterior and interior of the old farm-house. 

(c) The Plot. — Is the story interesting? Does it hold your 
interest to the end? Are there any parts where the interest 
flags? Does the story lack unity? At what point in the story 
is the interest (climax) at the highest pitch? 

(d) The Style. — Name the colloquial and idiomatic expressions. 
Select words that are strong and terse; those that are highly 
polished or ornamental. Notice that many of the sentences are 
inverted, i. e., "Our buskins o^ our feet we drew." Call 
attention to the various figurative expressions, as, "Ghostly 
finger-tips of sleet "; also the unusual words and allusions, as, 
grandam, self-concentered, Cambria's Golden shore, Pindus- 
bom. Note the Biblical allusions. Why are these scriptural 
phrases appropriate in this poem? Is the language different 
from that of prose? Teach the pupils to recognize the commonest 
figures of speech, such as the simile, the metaphor, personification 
and apostrophe. 

(e) Memory Gems. — The pupils should be encouraged to select 
choice passages for memorization and to state the reasons for 
their selection. 

(f) Collateral Reading. — The study of this poem should be 
presented in such an interesting manner as to give the pupils 
a desire to read other poems of a similar nature for the purpose 



8 PREFATORY NOTE TO THE TEACHER 

of comparison and contrast. The following poems are suggest- 
ive: ''The Cotter's Saturday Night" by Robert Burns, ''The 
Hanging of the Crane" by Longfellow, and "The Deserted Vil- 
lage " by Ohver Goldsmith, and ' 'Elegy Written in a Country 
Churchyard" by Thomas Gray, 

(g) Composition and Outline Work. — Brief compositions may be 
written upon selected topics or in reproducing parts of the story. 
The following list of composition subjects from "Snow-bound" 
may be profitably used in connection with the study of the poem: 

a. Farm Life in New England. 

b. Whittier's Struggle for an Education. 
' c. Description of a Snow Storm. 

d. Description of an old Farmhouse that You have seen. 

e. The Joys of Boyhood in the Country. 

f. The Pompous Teacher of Goldsmith's Poem contrasted 

with the Teacher in Snow-bound. 

g. Whittier, a Man who Knew and Mastered a Few Books: 

discuss either side of this question. 

h. Suppose that you were a Member of the Group Around 
the Fireside; write a story that you would have told 
as your part of the evening's Entertainment. 

i. A description of the Half -unwelcome Guest. 

j. What Whittier Owed to His Mother. 

Third Reading 

This reading should be free from all criticism and should be 
given for the purpose of permitting the student to enjoy the 
revealed beauty of the poem. 



I. SNOW'BOUND 



To THE Memory of the Household it Describes 

THIS POEM IS DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. 

"As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so good 
Spirits which be Angels of Light are augmented not only by the 
Divine Ught of the Sun, but also by our common Wood Fire; 
and as the Celestial Fire drives away dark spirits, so also this 
our Fire of Wood doth the same." — Cornelius Agrippa, Occult 
Philosophy, Book I, ch, v. 

"Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, 
Arrives the snow; and, driving o'er the fields, 
Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air 
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven, 
And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. 
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet 
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit 
Around the radiant fireplace, inclosed 
In a tumultuous privacy of storm." 

Emerson, The Snow-Storm. 
10 



SNOW-BOUND 



A WINTER IDYL. 

proachmg '^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ brief December day 
storm Rose cheerless over hills of gray, 

The And, darkly circled, gave at noon 

Day A sadder light than waning moon. 

5 Slow tracing down the thickening sky 
Its mute and ominous prophecy, 
A portent seeming less than threat, 
It sank from sight before it set. 
A chill no coat, however stout, 
10 Of homespun stuff could quite shut out, 
A hard, dull bitterness of cold, 
That checked, mid-vein, the circling race 

Who was Cornelius Agrippa, and when and where did he live? 
Why does the poet speak of the December day as brief? What 
do you understand by "the thickening sky"? What is a proph- 
ecy? Why was this a "mute and ominous prophecy"? What is 
a homespun coat? Explain the expression, "mid-vein." What 
is a portent? How does it differ from a threat? 

11 



12 SNOW-BOUND 

Of life-blood in the sharpened face, 
The coming of the snow-storm told. 
15 The wind blew east; we heard the roar 
Of Ocean on his wintry shore, 
And felt the strong pulse throbbing there 
Beat with low rhythm our inland air. 

Chores^ Meanwhile we did our nightly chores, — 
20 Brought in the wood from out of doors, 
Littered the stalls, and from the mows 
Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows; 
Heard the horse whinnying for his corn; 
And, sharply clashing horn on horn, 
25 Impatient down the stanchion rows 
The cattle shake their walnut bows; 
While, peering from his early perch 
Upon the scaffold's pole of birch. 
The cock his crested helmet bent 
30 And down his querulous challenge sent, 
stcfrm Unwarmed by any sunset light 

The gray day darkened into night, 
.A night made hoary with the swarm 
f And whirl-dance of the blinding storm. 

Name five things that foretold the approaching storm. Ex- 
plain the following, "And felt the strong pulse throbbing there 
beat with low rhythm our inland air." What are "chores"? 
In this connection read Warner's Being a Boy. What are 
' ' stanchions?" Explain the following expressions : " early perch, ' ' 
"crested helmet," "querulous challenge." How far was the 
poet's early home from the sea? Why did the day darken into 
night without a sunset? What is a "whirl-dance"? 



SNOW-BOUND 13 

35 As zig-zag wavering to and fro 

Crossed and recrossed the winged snow; 
And ere the early bedtime came \ 

The white drift piled the window-frame, 
\ And through the glass the clothes-line posts 

40 Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts. ] 

Fh-st ^^ ^^^ night long the storm roared on; 

Night The morning broke without a sun; 

The In tiny spherule traced with lines 

Day Of Nature's geometric signs, 

45 In starry flake and peUicle 
All day the hoary meteor fell; 
And, when the second morning shone, 
We looked upon a world unknown. 
On nothing we could call our own. 

kn^ wn" ^^ Around the glistening wonder bent 

World The blue walls of the firmament. 

No cloud above, no earth below, — 
A universe of sky and snow! 

Chfi/^^!^ The old familiar sights of ours 

Vision ! 55 Took marvellous shapes ; strange domes and 
towers 
Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood. 
Or garden wall or belt of wood ; 

Name the figures of speech expressed by the following: "the 
clothes-line posts looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts." What 
are "Nature's geometric signs"? " Strange domes and towers"? 

Spherule, a little sphere. 
Pellicle, a thin film. 



14 SNOW-BOUND 

A smooth white mound the brush-pile 

showed, 
A fenceless drift what once was road; 
Dp 60 The brid^-post an old man sat 

With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat; 
The well-curb had a Chinese roof; 
And even the long sweep, high aloof, 
In its slant splendor, seemed to tell 
65 Of Pisa's leaning miracle. 
jo^"?°°^ A prompt, decisive man, no breath 
Our father wasted; "Boys, a path!" 
Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy 
Count such a summons less than joy?) 
70 Our buskins on our feet we drew; 

With mittened hands, and caps drawn low, 
To guard our necks and ears from snow, \ 

What made the following objects: "a smooth white mound," 
"an old man with loose-flung coat and cocked hat," "a Chi- 
nese roof," " Pisa's leaning miracle *"? Do you think the com- 
parison a good one? Why was Pisa's leaning tower regarded as 
a miracle? Do we regard it as a miracle? Why does it not fall? 
Give several familiar illustrations to illustrate the same prin- 
ciple. Name a characteristic of Whittier's father? What was 
his father's name? Name some of the joys of boyhood as ex- 
pressed in this poem. 

Buskin, a strong, protecting covering for the foot. 

* The Tower of Pisa is 180 feet high and deviates more than 14 
feet from the vertical, due no doubt to the settling of the ground 
on which it stands. 



SNOW-BOUND 15 

^ We cut the solid whiteness through; 

And, where the drift was deepest, made 
^ 75 A tunnel walled and overlaid 
] With dazzling crystal : we had read 
Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave. 
And to our own his name we gave. 
With many a wish the luck were ours 
80 To test his lamp's supernal powers. 
We reached the barn with merry din, 
And roused the prisoned brutes within. 

The old horse thrust his long head out. 
And grave with wonder gazed about; 

85 The cock his lusty greeting said. 
And forth his speckled harem led; 
The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked, 
And mild reproach of hunger looked; 
The horned patriarch of the sheep, 

90 Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep. 
Shook his sage head with gesture mute. 
And emphasized with stamp of foot. 

Why the expression "solid whiteness"? From what is 
"supernal" derived? What is meant by the expression, 
"prisoned brutes"? 

Aladdin, a character in the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, 
who becomes possessed of a wonderful lamp and an equally 
wonderful ring, on rubbing which two genii appear who are the 
slaves of the lamp and ring respectively, and who execute the 
bidding of any one who may have these in his keeping. 

Amun was an Egyptian being under the form of a ram. 



16 SNOW-BOUND 

A Dreary ^jj ^^^y ^]^g gusty north-wincl bore 

The loosening drift its breath before; 
95 Low circhng round its southern zone, 

The sun through dazzhng snow-mist shone. 
No church-bell lent its Christian tone 
To the savage air, no social smoke 
Curled over woods of snow-hung oak. 
100 A solitude made more intense 
By dreary-voiced elements, 
^ The shrieking of the mindless wind, 
^^ The moaning tree-boughs swaying bhnd, 
'And on the glass the unmeaning beat 
105 Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet. 
Beyond the circle of our hearth 
No welcome sound of toil or mirth 
Unbound the spell, and testified 
Of human life and thought outside. 
110 We minded that the sharpest ear 
The buried brooklet could not hear, 

In this connection, read Longfellow's A Rainy Daij. Explain 
the meaning of the following: ''snow-mist," "low circling round 
its southern zone." Why did Whittier speak of "snow-hung 
oak"? What did he mean when he said: "No social smoke 
curled over woods of snow-hung oak"? 

Name the figurative expressions, "ghostly finger-tips of sleet," 
"the buried brooklet could not hear." What is meant by 
" dreary-voiced elements"? " Mindless wind "? " Buried brook- 
let"? "Liquid lip"? What dreary voiced elements made the 
solitude more intense? In what sense had the buried brooklet 
been companionship to young Whittier? 



18 SNOW-BOUND 

The music of whose Hquid lip 
Had been to us companionship, 
And, in our lonely life, had grown 
115 To have an almost human tone. 

Sec^ond ^^ night drew on, and, from the crest 

Night Of wooded knolls that ridged the west, 

The sun, a snow-blown traveler, sank 
From sight beneath the smothering bank, 
The i2d We piled with care, our nightly stack 
of the Of wood against the chimney-back, — • 

^^^ The oaken log, green, huge and thick, 

And on its top the stout back-stick; 
The knotty forestick laid apart, ; 

125 And filled between with curious art 

The ragged brush ; then, hovering near, ^ 
We watched the first red blaze appear, \ 
Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam 
On whitewashed wall and sagging beam, • 
130 Until the old, rude-furnished room 
Burst, fiower-Hke, into rosy bloom; 
While radiant with a mimic flame 
Outside the sparkling drift became. 
And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree 
135 Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free. 

Tell in your own language the household chores which were 
performed the second night. Explain the following: "snow- 
blown traveler," "smothering bank," "rude-furnished," "burst, 
flower-like, into rosy bloom," "caught the gleam," "mimic 
flame," "sparkling drift," "nightly stack." Describe in your 
own language the building of the fire. 



SNOW-BOUND 19 

The crane and pendent trammels showed, j 
[ The Turk's heads on the andirons glowed; J 
While childish fancy, prompt to tell 
The meaning of the miracle, 
140 Whispered the old rhyme : ' ' Under the tree, 
When fire outdoors hums merrily. 
There the witches are making teaJ^ 

nSS^^^^* The moon above the eastern wood 

Shone at its full; the hill-range stood 
145 Transfigured in the silver flood, 

Its blown snows flashing cold and keen, 
Dead white, save where some sharp ravine 
\ Took shadow, or the sombre green 

Of hemlock: turned to pitchy black 
150 Against the whiteness at their back. 
For such a world and such a night 
\ Most fitting that unwarming light. 

Which only seemed where'er it fell 
To make the coldness visible. 

155 Shut in from all the world without, 
HeartV^^^ We sat the clean- winged hearth about, 
Content to let the north-wind roar 

What is a "crane"? What are "trammels"? Explain: "The 
Turk's heads on the andirons glowed"; "childish fancy"; "the 
old rhyme." What is a miracle? Give your explanation of the 
old rhyme. What is the meaning of the expression, "the hill- 
range stood transfigured in the silver flood"? Why the expres- 
sion, "sombre green"? Explain "coldness visible," "clean- 
winged hearth." 



20 SNOW-BOUND 

In baffled rage at pane and door, 
While the red logs before us beat 

160 The frost-Une back with tropic heat; 
And ever, when a louder blast 
Shook beam and rafter as it passed. 
The merrier up its roaring draught 
The great throat of the chimney laughed; 

165 The house-dog on his paws outspread 
Laid to the fire his drowsy head. 
The cat's dark silhouette on the wall 
A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; 
And, for the winter fireside meet, 

170 Between the andirons' straddling feet, 
The mug of cider simmered slow. 
The apples sputtered in a row. 
And, close at hand, the basket stood 
With nuts from brown October's wood. 

175 What matter how the night behaved? 
Refle^tfons ^^^^ matter how the north-wind raved? 
Blow high, blow low, not all its snow 
Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. 

Explain "the frost-line back with tropic heat." What is a 
"silhouette"? What do you understand by "couchant tiger"? 
"straddling feet"? Name the figurative expression, "The great 
throat of the chimney laughed." 

This is a true photograph of a Puritan colonial interior as no 
other book or picture has presented it to us. The house stUl 
stands in which Whittier was born. The kitchen is thirty feet 
long and the fire-place is eight feet between the jambs. 



SNOW-BO UNB 21 

O Time and Change! — with hair as gray 
180 As was my sire's that winter clay, 

How strange it seems, with so much gone 

Of Ufe and love, to still live on! 

Ah, brother! only I and thou 

Are left of all that circle now, — 
185 The dear home faces whereupon 

That fitful firelight paled and shone. 

Henceforward, listen as we will, 

The voices of that hearth are still; 

Look where we may, the wide earth o'er, 
190 Those lighted faces smile no more. 

We tread the paths their feet have worn. 
We sit beneath their orchard trees. 
We hear, like them, the hum of bees 

And rustle of the bladed corn; 
195 We turn the pages that they read. 
Their written words we linger o'er. 

But in the sun they cast no shade. 

The Poet's Reflections: 

I. Time and its changes. 

a. The poet is now a gray-haired man. 

b. The poet and his brother are the only ones left. 

c. The absent faces. 

d. The stilled voices. 

e. We are left — 

1. To tread the old paths. 

2. To sit beneath the orchard trees. 

3. To hear like them the hum of bees. 

4. To hear the rustle of bladed corn, etc. 



22 SNOW-BOUND 

No voice is heard, no sign is made, 
No step is on the conscious floor! 
200 Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust 
Vofce of (Since He who knows our need is just), 
Faith That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. 

Alas for him who never sees 
The stars shine through his cypress-trees! 
205 Who, hopeless, lays his dead away. 
Nor looks to see the breaking day 
Across the mournful marbles play! 
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, 
The truth to flesh and sense unknown, 
210 That Life is ever lord of Death, 

And Love can never lose its own! 

Scond ^ We sped the time with stories old, 
Evening Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told, 
Spent Or stammered from our school-book lore 

215 ''The chief of Gambia's golden shore.'' 
How often since, when all the land 
Was clay in Slavery's shaping hand, " 
As if a trumpet called, I've heard 
Dame Mercy Warren's rousing word: 
220 "Does not the voice of reason cry, 

The Voice of Faith: 

a. Hope of reunion beyond the grave. 

b. Hopelessness of life without faith. 

c. The lesson of Faith. 

1. That life is ever lord of Death. 

2. That Love can never lose its own. 



SNOW-BOUND 23 

Claim the first right which Nature gavCy 
From the red scourge of bondage fly 
Nor deign to live a burdened slave!^' 
Whittier Our father rode again his ride 

225 On Memphremagog's wooded side; 
Sat down again to moose and samp 
In trapper's hut and Indian camp; 
The Lived o'er the old idylHc ease 

Adventures Beneath St. Francois' hemlock trees; 
230 Again for him the moonhght shone 
On Norman cap and bodiced zone; 
Again he heard the vioHn play 
Which led the village dance away, 
And mingled in its merry whirl 
235 The grandam and the laughing girl. 
Or, nearer home, our steps he led 
Where SaHsbury's level marshes spread 

Mile- wide as flies the laden bee; 
Where merry mowers, hale and strong, 
240 Swept, scythe on scythe, their swaths along 
The low green prairies of the sea. 

Who lived near the Salisbury marshes? What is meant by 
the "lov/ green prairies of the sea"? Memphremagog is a lake 
in Vermont. SaHsbury's marshes are in Massachusetts, near 
Whittier's home in East Salisbury. Boar's Head is a bluff on 
New Hampshire coast. Isles of Shoals are off Boar's Head. 

Lines 215, 220, 223 are taken from a poem bySarah W. Morton, 
which appeared in a school book which Whittier may have 
studied. 



24 SNOW-BOUND 

We shared the fishing off Boar's Head, 
And round the rocky Isles of Shoals 
The hake-broil on the driftwood coals; 
245 The chowder on the sand-beach made, 
Dipped by the hungry, steaming hot, 
With spoons of clam-shell from the pot. 
We heard the tales of witchcraft old, 
And dream and sign and marvel told 
250 To sleepy listeners as they lay 
Stretched idly on the salted hay, 
Adrift along the winding shores. 

When favoring breezes deigned to blow 
The square sail of the gundalow, 
255 And idle lay the useless oars. 

Mother's ^^^ mother, while she turned her wheel 
Contribu- Or run the new-knit stocking-he61, 

tion to the i x t 

Evening's Told how the Indian hordes came down 
^ntertmn- ^^ midnight ou Cochecho town, 

260 And how her own great-uncle bore 
His cruel scalp-mark to fourscore. 
Recalling, in her fitting phrase. 
So rich and picturesque and free 
(The common unrhymed poetry 

What is meant by the "wheel"? How is a stocking-heel run? 
How were stockings made at this time? 

Cochecho is the Indian name for Dover, N. H. 
Hake, a kind of fish. 
Gundalow, a small boat. 



SNOW-BOUND 25 

Life^and ^^^ ^^ simple life and country ways) , 
Country The story of her early days, — 

She made us welcome to her home; 
Old hearths grew wide to give us room; 
We stole with her a frightened look 

270 At the gray wizard's conjuring-book, 
The fame whereof went far and wide 
Through all the simple country-side; 
We heard the hawks at twilight play, 
The boat-horn on Piscataqua, 

275 The loon's weird laughter far away; 
We fished her little trout-brook, knew 
What flowers in wood and meadow grew, 
What sunny hillsides autumn-brown 
She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down, 

280 Saw where in sheltered cove and bay 
The ducks' black squadron anchored'lay, 
And heard the wild geese calUng loud 
Beneath the gray November cloud. 
Then, haply, with a look more grave 

285 And soberer tone, some tale she gave 
From painful Sewell's ancient tome, 

What is a wizard? What is a '' wizard's conjuring book"? 
Explain, "Old hearths grew wide to give us room." What do 
you understand by "simple life and country ways"? What is 
"weird laughter"? 
Name the figure of speech in "the ducks' black squadron." 
Whittier's mother was a Quakeress. William Sewell wrote a his- 
tory of the Quakers. 

Piscataqua, a river in New Hampshire, 



26 SNOW-BOUND 

Beloved in every Quaker home, 

Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom, 

Or Chalkley's Journal, old and quaint, — 

290 Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint ! — 
Who, when the dreary calms prevailed, 
And water-butt and bread-cask failed. 
And cruel, hungry eyes pursued 
His portly presence, mad for food, 

295 With dark hints muttered under breath 
Of casting lots for hfe or death, 

Thomas Chalkey, a Quaker of English parentage, was a 
preacher who traveled extensively. In 1747, he published a 
Journal of His Travels from which the incident in the poem was 
taken. His account is as follows: "To stop their murmuring, 
I told them they should not need to cast lots, which was usual 
in such cases which of us should die first, for I would freely offer 
up my life to do them good. One said ' God bless you! I will not 
eat any of you.' Another said 'He would die before he would 
eat any of me'; and so said several. I can truly say on that oc- 
casion, at any time my life was not dear to me, and that I was 
serious and ingenuous in my proposition; and as I was leaning over 
the side of the vessel, thoughtfully considering my proposal 
to the company, and looking into my mind to Him that made me, 
a very large dolphin came up towards the surface of the water 
and looked me in the face; and I called the people to put a hook 
into the sea and take him for here is one come to redeem me. 
And they put a hook into the sea and the fish readily took it and 
they caught him. He was longer than myself. I think he was 
about six feet long. This plainly showed that we ought not to 
distrust the providence of the Almighty. The people were 
quieted by this act of Providence and murmured no more. We 
caught enough to eat plentifully of, till we got into the Capes 
of Delaware." 



SNOW-BOUND 27 

Offered, if Heaven withheld supplies 

To be himself the sacrifice. 

Then, suddenly, as if to save 
300 The good man from his living grave, 

A ripple on the water grew, 

A school of porpoise dashed in view. 

''Take, eat," he said, "and be content; 

These fishes in my stead are sent 
305 By Him who gave the tangled ram 

To spare the child of Abraham." 

WhSier ^^^ uncle, innocent of books, 

Was rich in lore of fields and brooks, 
The ancient teachers never dumb 
310 Of Nature's unhoused lyceum. 

In moons and tides and weather wise, 
He read the clouds as prophecies, 
And foul or fair could well divine, 
By many an occult hint and sign, 
315 Holding the cunning-warded keys 
To all the woodcraft mysteries; 
Himself to Nature's heart so near 
That all her voices in his ear 
Of beast or bird had meanings clear, 
320 Like ApoUonius of old, 
Explain: "rich in lore of fields and brooks," " Nature's unhoused 
lyceum , " " cunning-warded keys . " 

In line 305 the reference is to Genesis xxii, 13 
Apollonius was a philosopher who was born in the first century 
of the Christian era and was reputed to hold conversations with 
birds and animals. 



28 SNOW-BOUND 

Who knew the tales the sparrows told, 
Or Hermes, who interpreted 
What the sage cranes of Nilus said; 
A simple, guileless, childlike man, 

325 Content to hve where life began; 
Strong only on his native grounds, 
The little world of sights and sounds 
Whose girdle was the parish bounds. 
Whereof his fondly partial pride 

330 The common features magnified. 
As Surrey hills to mountains grew 
In White of Selborne's loving view, — 
He told how teal and loon he shot, 
And how the eagle's eggs he got, 

335 The feats on pond and river done. 
The prodigies of rod and gun; 
Till, warming with the tales he told, 
Forgotten was the outside cold, 
The bitter wind unheeded blew, 

340 From ripening corn the pigeon's flew, 

The partridge drummed i' the wood, the mink 
Went fishing down the river-brink. 

What is meant by a "guileless man"? 

Explain: "strong on his native grounds," "As Surrey hills 
to mountains grew." 

Hermes, an Egyptian philosopher. 

Gilbert White was an English clergyman. He wrote such 
i minute and accurate description of Selborne as viewed from 
his own doorstep that his book has almost become a classic. 




29 



30 SXOW-BOUXD 

In fields with bean or clover gay, 
The woodchuck, Hke a hermit graj^ 
345 Peeredfromthedoorway of hiscellj- 
The muskrat plied the mason's trade, 
And tier by tier his mud-walls laid; 
And from the shagbark overhead 

The grizzled squirrel dropped his shell. 

350 Next, the dear aunt, whose smile of cheer 
Mercy >^^^ voice in dreams I see and hear, — 

Hussey ' 

The sweetest woman ever Fate 
Perverse denied a household mate, 
Who, lonely, homeless, not the less 

355 Found peace in love's unselfishness, 
And welcome whereso'er she went, 
A calm and gracious element, 
Whose presence seemed the sweet income 
And womanly atmosphere of home, — 

360 Called up her girlhood memories. 
Memories The huskings and the apple-bees. 

The sleigh-rides and the summer sails, 
Weaving through all the poor details 
And homespun warp of circumstance 

365 A golden woof-thread of romance. 

Why does the poet call the woodchuck " a hermit "? the musk- 
rat, "a mason"? What is a "shagbark"? "UTiat is meant by 
"a golden woof-thread of romance"? 

Warp, the thread which runs lengthwise; woof, the thread 
which runs across. 



SNOW-BOUND 31 

For well she kept her genial mood 
And simple faith of maidenhood; 
Before her still a cloud-land lay, 
The mirage loomed across her way; 

370 The morning dew, that dried so soon 
With others ghstened at her noon ; 
Through years of toil and soil and care. 
From glossy tress to thin gray hair. 
All unprofaned she held apart 

375 The virgin fancies of her heart. 
Be shame to him of woman bom 
Who hath for such but thought of scorn. 

Mary There, too, our elder sister pUed 

Her evening task the stand beside; 
380 A full, rich nature, free to trust, 
Truthful and almost sternly just. 
Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act. 
And make her generous thought a fact, 
Keeping with many a light disguise 
385 The secret of self-sacrifice. 

O heart sore-tried! thou hast the best 
That Heaven itself could give thee,— rest. 
Rest from all bitter thoughts and things! 
How many a poor one's blessing went 
390 With thee beneath the low green tent 
Whose curtain never outward swings! 
Elizabeth. As One who held herself a part 
Of all she saw, and let her heart 
For explanation of lines 368 and 369, see page 98. 



32 SNOW-BOUND 

Against the household bosom lean, 
395 Upon the motley-braided mat 
Our youngest and our dearest sat, 
Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes, 

Now bathed within the fadeless green 
And holy peace of Paradise. 
400 Oh, looking from some heavenly hill, 
Or from the shade of saintly palms, 
Or silver reach of river calms, 
Reverie ^^ those large eyes behold me still? 
With me one little year ago! — 
405 The chill weight of the winter snow 
Retrospect. For months upon her grave has lain; 

And now, when summer south-winds blow 

And brier and harebell bloom again, 
I tread the pleasant paths we trod, 
410 I see the violet-sprinkled sod, 

Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak 
The hillside flowers she loved to seek, 
Yet following me where'er I went 
With dark eyes full of love's content. 

The Poet's Reverie: 

1. Do those eyes behold me still? 

a. From some heavenly hill? 

b. From shade of saintly palms? 

c. From silver reach of river calms? 
One Year Before (retrospect) : 

1. I tread again the paths we trod. 

2. She was frail and sickly. 

3. She was fond of flowers. 

4. The glad birds. 

5. The sweetness of the air. 



SNOW-BOUND 33 

415 The birds are glad; the brier-rose fills 
The air with sweetness; all the hills 
Stretch green to June's unclouded sky; 
But still I wait with ear and eye 
For something gone which should be nigh, 
420 A loss in all familiar things, 
Loss^°^*'^ In flower that blooms, and bird that sings. 

And yet, dear heart! remembering thee, 
The^P^et's j^^ J ^Q^ ^^^Yier than of old? 

Safe in thy immortality, 
425 What change can reach the wealth I 
hold? 
What chance can mar the pearl and gold 
Thy love hath left in trust with me? 
And while in life's late afternoon. 

Where cool and long the shadows grow, 
430 I walk to meet the night that soon 
Shall shape and shadow overflow, 
I cannot feel that thou art far. 
Since near at need the angels are; 
And when the sunset gates unbar, 
435 Shall I not see thee waiting stand, 

The Poet's Loss: 

a. In the flowers that bloom. 

b. In the birds that sing. 
The Poet's Gain: 

a. In a richer belief in immortality. 

b. In the love which his sister has left him. 

c. In the belief of his sister's presence. 

d. In the belief of a speedy and happy reunion. 



34 SNOW-BOUND 

Reunion. And, whitc against the evening star, 

^ The welcome of thy beckoning hand? 

HasSu Brisk wielder of the birch and rule, 

The master of the district school 
440 Held at the fire his favored place, 
Its warm glow ht a laughing face 
Fresh-hued and fair, where scarce appeared 
The uncertain prophecy of beard. 
He teased the mitten-blinded cat, 
445 Played cross-pins on my uncle's hat, 
Sang songs, and told us what befalls 
In classic Dartmouth's college halls. 
Born the wild Northern hills among, 
From whence his yeoman father wrung 
450 By patient toil subsistence scant. 
Not competence and yet not want. 
He early gained the power to pay 
His cheerful, self-reliant way; 
Could doff at ease his scholar's gown 
455 To peddle wares from town to town; 
Or through the long vacation's reach 
In lonely lowland districts teach. 
Where all the droll experience found 
What is meant by ''brisk wielder of the birch"? What are 
"cross-pins"? What is a "yeoman"? 
For explanation of line 439 see page 98. 
What is meant by the "scholar's gown"? Describe the master 
in the schoohoom. 

Dartmouth is a famous college located at Hanover, New 
Hampshire 



SNOW-BOUND 35 

At stranger hearths in boarding round. 

460 The moonht skater's keen delight, 

The sleigh-drive through the frosty night, 
The rustic party, with its rough 
Accompaniment of blind-man's-buff. 
And whirling plate, and forfeits paid, 

465 His winter task a pastime made. 

Happy the snow-locked homes wherein 

He tuned his merry violin. 

Or played the athlete in the barn. 

Or held the good dame's winding j^arn, 

470 Or liiirth-provoking versions told 
Of classic legends rare and old. 
Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome 
Had all the commonplace of home. 
And little seemed at best the odds 

475 'Twixt Yankee pedlars and old gods; 
Where Pindus-born Arachthus took 
The guise of any grist-mill brook, 
And dread Olympus at his will 
Became a huckleberry hill. 

480 A careless boy that night he seemed; 
But at his desk he had the look 
And air of one who wisely schemed, 

What is meant by "boarding round"? 

In this connection, read Irving's Legend of Sleepy Hollow. 

PiNDUS, a mountain chain which, running from north to south, 
nearly bisects Greece. Five rivers have their source in or near 
the central peak, viz., Arachthus, the Haliacmon, the Aous, the 
Peneus, and the Achelous. 



36 SNOW-BOUND 

And hostage from the future took 
In trained thought and lore of book. 
EdJTca- ^^^ Large-brained, clear-eyed, — of such as he 
tion Will Shall freedom's young apostles be 

Who, following in War's bloody trail, 
Shall every lingering wrong assail; 
All chains from limb and spirit strike, 
490 Uplift the black and white alike; 
Scatter before their swift advance 
The darkness and the ignorance. 
The pride, the lust, the squalid sloth, 
Which nurtured Treason's monstrous growth, 
495 Made murder pastime, and the hell 
Of prison-torture possible; 
The cruel lie of caste refute. 
Old forms remould, and substitute 
For slavery's lash the freeman's will, 
500 For bhnd routine, wise-handed skill; 
A school-house plant on every hill, 

The Poet's Views on Education: 

1. Shall make us large-brained and clear-eyed. 

2. Education shall assail every wrong. 

3. Education shall strike at slavery 

4. Education shall scatter ignorance. 

5. Education shall banish castes. 

6. Education shall make us all freemen. 

7. Plant a school-house on every hill. 

8. Bring North and South together: 

a. In thought. 

b. Under the same flag. 

0. Side by side in the field of labor. 



SNOW-BOUND 37 

Stretching in radiate nerve-lines thence 
The quick wires of inteUigence; 
Till North and South together brought 
505 Shall own the same electric thought, 
In peace a common flag salute, 
And, side by side in labor's free 
And unresentful rivalry. 
Harvest the fields wherein they fought. 

510 Another guest that winter night 

Flashed back from lustrous eyes the fight. 
Unmarked by time, and yet not young, 
The honeyed music of her tongue 
And words of meekness scarcely told 
515 A nature passionate and bold. 

Strong, self-concentred, spurning guide, 
Its milder features dwarfed beside 
Her unbent wifi's majestic pride. 
She sat among us, at the best, 
Harriet 520 A uot unfeared, half-welcome guest, 
Livermore Rebuking with her cultured phrase 
Our homeliness of words and ways. 
A certain pard-like, treacherous grace 

Swayed the fithe limbs and drooped the 
lash, 
525 Lent the white teeth their dazzfing flash; 

What are "heat lightnings"? 
Self-concentred, centred in one's self, conceited. 
For explanation of line 520, see page 99. 
Pard-like, like a panther or a leopard. 



38 SNOW-BOUND 

And under low brows, black with night, 
Rayed out at times a dangerous light; 
The sharp heat-lightnings of her face 
Presaging ill to him whom Fate 

530 Condemned to share her love or hate. 
A woman tropical, intense 
In thought and act, in soul and sense. 
She blended in a like degree 
The vixen and the devotee, 

535 Revealing with each freak or feint 
The temper of Petruchio's Kate, 
The raptures of Siena's saint. 
Her tapering hand and rounded wrist 
Had facile power to form a fist; 

540 The warm, dark languish of her eyes 
Was never safe from wrath's surprise. 
Brows saintly calm and lips devout 
Knew every change of scowl and pout; 
And the sweet voice had notes more high 

545 And shrill for social battle-cry. 

Since then what old cathedral town 
Has missed her pilgrim staff and gown, 
What convent-gate has held its lock 
Against the challenge of her knock! 

Contrast the character of the half -welcome guest with that of 
Elizabeth or Mary. 

For explanation of line 536, see Shakespeare's comedy, The 
Taming of the Shrew. 

St. Catherine of Siena is credited with having wonderful 
visions and made a vow to keep silence for a period of three years. 



SNOW-BOUND 39 

550 Through Smyrna's plague-hushed thorough- 
fares, 
Up sea-set Malta's rocky stairs, 
Gray olive slopes of hills that hem 
Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem, 
Or startling on her desert throne 
555 The crazy Queen of Lebanon 
yt^^nl^?*^^ With claims fantastic as her own. 

Her tireless feet have held their way; 
And still, unrestful, bowed, and gray. 
She watches under Eastern skies, 
560 With hope each day renewed and fresh. 
The Lord's quick coming in the flesh, 
Whereof she dreams and prophesies! 
Where'er her troubled path may be. 
The Lord's sweet pity with her g£|_____ 
" ^565 The outward wayward life we see. 

The hidden springs we may not know. 
Nor is it given us to discern 

What threads the fatal sisters spun, 
Through what ancestral years has run 
570 The sorrow with the woman born, 
What forged her cruel chain of moods. 
What set her feet in soUtudes, 

And held the love within her mute. 
What mingled madness in the blood, 
575 A life-long discord and annoy, 
Water of tears with oil of joy. 
And hid within the folded bud 
Perversities of flower and fruit. 



40 SyOW-BOUXD 

It is not ours to separate 
580 The tangled skein of will and fate, 

To show what metes and bounds should 
stand 

Upon the soul's debatable land, 

And between choice and Providence 

Divide the circle of events; 
585 But He who knows our frame is just, 

Merciful, and compassionate, 

And full of sweet assurances 

And hope for all the language is. 
That He remembereth we are dust! 

590 At last the great logs, crumbling low, 
Up of 'tS. Sent out a dull and duller glow, 
Family The bull's-cve watch that hung in view, 

Group „.,.." . . , , 

Tickmg its weary circuit through, 
Pointed with mutely-warning sign 
595 Its black hand to the hour of nine. 

"\Miat is meant by the expression "ticking its weary circuit 
through"? Why "bull's-eye watch"? 

The Poet's charitable views: 

a. May the Lord's sweet pity go with her. 

b. We can see the outward actions of people, but cannot see 

their motives. 

c. She might have inherited these qualities from her an- 

cestors. 

d. It is not our place to judge our fellowman. 

e. God alone is just to judge, for He remembereth that we 

are dust. 



SyOW-BOUND 41 

Bed-time That sign the pleasant circle broke: 
My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke, 
Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray, 
And laid it tenderly away, 

600 Then roused himself to safely cover 
The dull red brand with ashes over. 
And while, with care, our mother laid 
The work aside, her steps she stayed 
One moment, seeking to express 

605 Her grateful sense of happiness 

For food and shelter, warmth and health, 
And love's contentment more than wealth. 
With simple wishes (not the weak. 
Vain prayers which no fulfilment seek, 

610 But such as warm the generous heart, 
O'er-prompt to do with Heaven its part) 
That none might lack, that bitter night. 
For bread and clothing, warmth and light. 
Within our beds awhile we heard 

615 The wind that round the gables roared, 
With now and then a ruder shock, 
Which made our very bedstead rock. 
We heard the loosened clapboards tost, 
The board-nails snapping in the frost; 

620 And on us, through the unplastered wall, 
Felt the fight sifted snow-flakes fall; 

Explain "love's contentment." Why cover the "brand"? 
What are "clapboards"? What are '"board-nails"? Why is 
"tost" so spelled? 



42 SNOW-BOUND 

But sleep stole on, as sleep will do 
When hearts are light and life is new; 
Faint and more faint the murmurs grew, 
625 Till in the summer-land of dreams 
They softened to the sound of streams. 
Low stir of leaves, and dip of oars. 
And lapsing waves on quiet shores. 

Dav^^^^^ Next morn we wakened with the shout 
630 Of merry voices high and clear; 

And saw the teamsters drawing near 
Breaking rj.^ ^^^^^ ^^^ drifted highways out. 

Down the long hillside treading slow 

We saw the half -buried oxen go, 
635 Shaking the snow from heads uptost, 

Their straining nostrils white with frost. 

Before our door the straggling train 

Drew up, an added team to gain. 

The elders threshed their hands a-cold, 
640 Passed, with the cider-mug, their jokes 

From lip to lip; the younger folks 

Down the loose snow-banks, wrestling, 
rolled. 

Then toiled again the cavalcade 

O'er windy hill, through clogged ravine, 
645 And woodland paths that wound between 

Low drooping pine-boughs winter-weighed. 

What is meant by "clogged ravine"? "winter- weighed"? 
"threshed their hands a-cold"? 



SNOW-BOUND 43 

From every barn a team afoot, 

At every house a new recruit, 

Where, drawn by Nature's subtlest law, 

650 Haply the watchful young men saw 
Sweet doorway pictures of the curls 
And curious eyes of merry girls, 
Lifting their hands in mock defence 
Against the snow-balls' compliments, 

655 And reading in each missive tost 
The charm which Eden never lost. 

We heard once more the sleigh-bells' sound; 
And, following where the teamsters led, 
Eiias°^ The wise old Doctor went his round. 

Weld 660 Just pausing at our door to say, 
Haverhill In the brief autocratic way 

Of one who, prompt at Duty's call. 
Was free to urge her claim on all. 
That some poor neighbor sick abed 
665 At night our mother's aid would need. 
For, one in generous thought and deed. 
What mattered in the sufferer's sight 
The Quaker matron's inward hght. 
The Doctor's mail of Calvin's creed? 
670 All hearts confess the saints elect 

Who, twain in faith, in love agree, 

What is meant by "Nature's subtlest law"? "snow-balls' 
compliments"? "the charm which Eden never lost"? 

What is meant by an "autocratic way"? Characterize Whit- 
tier's mother as one generous in thought and deed. 



44 SNOW-BOUND 

And melt not in an acid sect 
The Christian pearl of charity! 

So days went on : a week had passed 
675 Since the great world was heard from last. 
Whittier "^^^ Almanac we studied o'er, 
Library Read and reread our little store 

Of books and pamphlets, scarce a score; 
One harmless novel, mostly hid 
680 From younger eyes, a book forbid, 
And poetry, (or good or bad, 
A single book was all we had,) 
Where Ellwood's meek, drab-skirted Muse, 
A stranger to the heathen Nine, 
685 Sang, with a somewhat nasal whine 
The wars of David and the Jews. 
At last the floundering carrier bore 
The village paper to our door. 
News Lo! broadening outward as we read. 

Week ^90 To warmer zones the horizon spread; 
In panoramic length unrolled 
We saw the marvels that it told. 
Before us passed the painted Creeks, 

What is the "Christian pearl of charity"? 

For an account of the Whittier library, see page 85. 

Thomas Ellwood, a member of the Society of Friends, wrote 
for his own amusement an epic poem in five books, entitled 
Davideis, the life of King David of Israel. 

The Creek Indians were removed from Georgia to beyond 
the Mississippi. 



SNOW-BOUND 45 

And daft McGregor on his raids 
695 In Costa Rica's everglades. 
And up Taygetus winding slow 
Rode Ypsilanti's Mainote Greeks, 
A Turk's head at each saddle bow! 
Welcome to us its week-old news, 
700 Its corner for the rustic Muse, 

Its monthly gauge of snow and rain, 
Its record, mingling in a breath 
The wedding bell and dirge of death; 
Jest, anecdote, and love-lorn tale, 
705 The latest culprit sent to jail; 
Its hue and cry of stolen and lost, 
Its vendue sales and goods at cost. 
And traffic calling loud for gain. 
We felt the stir of hall and street, 
710 The pulse of life that round us beat; 
The chill embargo of the snow 
Was melted in the genial glow; 
Wide swung again our ice-locked door. 
And all the world was ours once- more! 
715 Clasp, Angel of the backward look 
Sir George McGregor, a Scotchman, attempted to establish 
a colony in Costa Rica in 1822. 

Taygetus is a mountain on the Gulf of Messenia in Greece, 
and near it is the district of Maina, famed for its robbers and 
pirates. 

Ypsilanti was a Greek patriot who marched forth from these 
mountains during the struggle with Turkey and helped to wm 
the independence of Greece. 



46 SNOW-BOUND 

And folded v/ings of ashen gray 
The voice of echoes far away, 
The brazen covers of thy book; 
The weird paUmpsest old and vast, 
720 Wherein thou hid'st the spectral past; 
Where, closely mingling, pale and glow 
The characters of joy and woe; 
The monographs of outlived years, 
Or smile-illumed or dim with tears, 
725 Green hills of life that slope to death. 
And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees 
Shade off to mournful cypresses 

With the white amaranths underneath. 
Even while I look, I can but heed 
730 The restless sands' incessant fall. 
Importunate hours that hours succeed. 
Each clamorous with its own sharp need, 

And duty keeping pace with all. 
Shut down and clasp the heavy lids; 
735 I hear again the voice that bids 

The dreamer leave his dream midway 
For larger hopes and graver fears: 
.^ LifeN| greatens in these later years, 

The century's aloe flowers to-day! 

Line 730 refers to the hour-glass. 

Palimpsest, a parchment which has been written upon twice, 
the first writing having been erased to make place for the second. 

Monograph, a special written account on a particular sub- 
ject. 

Amaranth, an imaginary flower supposed never to fade. 



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48 SNOW-BOUND 

740 Yet, haply, in some lull of life, 
ories^f "^' Some truce of God which breaks its strife, 
Youthful The worldling's eyes shall gather dew, 
Dreaming in throngful city ways 
Of winter joys his boyhood knew; 
745 And dear and early friends — the few 
Who yet remain — shall pause to view 
Picture! These Flemish pictures of old days; 

Sit with me by the homestead hearth, 
And stretch the hands of memory forth 
750 To warm them at the wood-fire's blaze! 
And thanks untraced to lips unknown 
Shall greet me like the odors blown 
From unseen meadows newly mown. 
Or lihes floating in some pond, 
755 Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond; 
The traveller owns the grateful sense 
Of sweetness near, he knows not whence, 
Be^nedfction ^^^? pausiug, takes with forehead bare 
The benediction of the air. 

" In 1040 the church forbade the barons to make any attack on 
each other between sunset on Wednesday to sunrise on the fol- 
lowing Monday or upon any ecclesiastical fast or feast day. 
It also provided that no man was to molest a laborer working 
in the fields or to lay hands on any implement of industry on 
pain of excommunication." — Brewer. 



11. SONGS OF LABOR 



49 



SONGS OF LABOR 

(1850) 

DEDICATION 

I WOULD the gift I offer here 

Might graces from thy favor take, 
And, seen through Friendship's atmosphere, 
On softened hnes and coloring, wear 
5 The unaccustomed light of beauty, for thy sake. 

Few leaves of Fancy's spring remain: 

But what I have I give to thee, 
The o'er-sunned bloom of summer's plain. 
And paler flowers, the latter rain 
10 Calls from the westering slope of life's autumnal 
lea. 

Above the fallen groves of green. 

Where youth's enchanted forest stood. 
Dry root and mossed trunk between, 
A sober after-growth is seen, 
15 As springs the pine where falls the gay-leafed maple 
wood! 

51 



52 SONGS OF LABOR 

Yet birds will sing, and breezes play 

Their leaf-harps in the sombre tree; 
And through the bleak and wintry day 
It keeps its steady green alway, — 
20 So, even my after-thoughts may have a charm for 
thee. 

Art's perfect forms no moral need. 

And beauty is its own excuse; 
But for the dull and flowerless weed 
Some healing virtue still must plead, 
25 And the rough ore must find its honors in its use. 

So haply these, my simple lays 

Of homely toil, may serve to show 
The orchard bloom and tasselled maize 
That skirt and gladden duty's ways, 
30 The unsung beauty hid life's common things below. 

Haply from them the toiler, bent 

Above his forge or plough, may gain 
A manlier spirit of content. 
And feel that life is wisest spent 
35 Where the strong working hand makes strong the 
working brain. 

The doom which to the guilty pair 
Without the walls of Eden came, 
Transforming sinless ease to care 
And rugged toil, no more shall bear 
40 The burden of old crime, or mark of primal shame. 



THE SHOEMAKERS 53 

A blessing now, a curse no more; 

Since He, whose name we breathe with awe, 
The coarse mechanic vesture wore, 
A poor man toihng with the poor, 
45 In labor, as in prayer, fulfilling the same law. 



THE SHOEMAKERS 

Ho! workers of the old time styled 

The Gentle Craft of Leather! 
Young brothers of the ancient guild. 

Stand forth once more together! 
5 Call out again your long array. 

In the olden merry manner! 
Once more, on gay St. Crispin's day, 

Fling out your blazoned banner! 

Rap, rap! upon the well-worn stone 
10 How falls the pohshed hammer! 

Rap, rap! the measured sound has grown 

A quick and merry clamor. 
Now shape the sole! now deftly curl 
The glossy vamp around it, 
15 And bless the while the bright-eyed girl 
Whose gentle fingers bound it! 



54 SONGS OF LABOR 

For you, along the Spanish main 
A hundred keels are ploughing; 

For you, the Indian on the plain 
20 His lasso-coil is throwing; 

For you, deep glens with hemlock dark 
The woodman's fire is fighting; 

For you, upon the oak's gray bark, 
The woodman's axe is smiting. 

25 For you, from Carolina's pine 
The rosin-gum is stealing; 
For you, the dark-eyed Florentine 

Her silken skein is reeling; 
For you, the dizzy goatherd roams 
30 His rugged Alpine ledges; 

For you, round all her shepherd homes, 
Bloom England's thorny hedges. 

The foremost still, by day or night, 
On moated mound or heather, 
35 Where'er the need of trampled right 
Brought toifing men together; 
Where the free burghers from the wall 

Defied the mail-clad master. 
Than yours, at Freedom's trumpet-call, 
40 No craftsman ralfied faster. 

Let foplings sneer, let fools deride, 

Ye heed no idle scorner; 
Free hands and hearts are still your pride. 

And duty done, your honor. 



THE SHOEMAKERS 55 

45 Ye dare to trust, for honest fame, 
The jury Time empanels, 
And leave to truth each noble name 
Which glorifies your annals. 

Thy songs, Hans Sachs, are hving yet, 
50 In strong and hearty German; 

And Bloomfield's lay, and Gifford's wit, 

And patriot fame of Sherman; - 
Still from his book, a mystic seer, 
The soul of Behman teaches, 
55 And England's priestcraft shakes to hear 
Of Fox's leathern breeches. 

The foot is yours; where'er it falls. 

It treads your well-wrought leather 
On earthen floor, in marble halls, 
60 On carpet, or on heather. 

Still there the sweetest charm is found 

Of matron grace or vestal's, 
As Hebe's foot bore nectar round 
Among the old celestials! 

65 Rap, rap ! your stout and bluff brogan, 
With footsteps slow and weary, 
May wander where the sky's blue span 

Shuts down upon the prairie. 
On Beauty's foot your slippers glance, 
70 By Saratoga's fountains, 

Or twinkle down the summer dance 
Beneath the Crystal Mountains! 



56 SONGS OF LABOR 

The red brick to the mason's hand, 
The brown earth to the tiller's, 
75 The shoe in yours shall wealth commandj 
Like fairy Cinderella's ! 
As they who shunned the household maid 

Beheld the crown upon her, 
So all shall see your toil repaid 
80 With hearth and home and honor. 

Then let the toast be freely quaffed, 
In water cool and brimming, — 
''All honor to the good old Craft, 
Its merry men and women!" 
85 Call out again your long array, 

In the old time's pleasant manner: 
Once more, on gay St. Crispin's day. 
Fling out his blazoned banner! 



THE FISHERMEN 

Hurrah ! the seaward breezes 

Sweep down the bay amain; 
Heave up, my lads, the anchor! 

Run up the sail again! 
5 Leave to the lubber landsmen 

The rail-car and the steed; 
The stars of heaven shall guide us, 

The breath of heaven shall speed. 



THE FISHERMEN 57 

From the hill-top looks the steeple, 

10 And the light-house from the sand; 

And the scattered pines are waving 

Their farewell from the land. 
One glance, my lads, behind us. 
For the homes we leave one sigh, 
15 Ere we take the change and chances 
Of the ocean and the sky. 

Now, brothers, for the icebergs 

Of frozen Labrador, 
Floating spectral in the moonshine, 
20 Along the low, black shore! 

Where like snow the gannet's feathers 

On Brador's rocks are shed. 
And the noisy murr are flying. 

Like black scuds, overhead; 

25 Where in mist the rock is hiding. 
And the sharp reef lurks below, 
And the white squall smites in summer, 

And the autumn tempests blow; 
Where through gray and roUing vapor, 
30 From evening unto morn, 
A thousand boats are hailing, 
Horn answering unto horn. 

Hurrah ! for the Red Island, 

With the white cross on its crown! 
35 Hurrah! for Meccatina, 

And its mountains bare and brown! 



58 SONGS OF LABOR 

Where the Caribou's tall antlers 

O'er the dwarf -wood freely toss, 
And the footstep of the Mickmack 
40 Has no sound upon the moss. 

There we'll drop our lines, and gather 

Old Ocean's treasures in. 
Where'er the mottled mackerel 

Turns up a steel-dark fin. 
45 The sea's our field of harvest. 

Its scaly tribes our grain; 
We'll reap the teeming waters 

As at home they reap the plain! 

Our wet hands spread the carpet, 
50 And light the hearth of home; 
From our fish, as in the old time, 

The silver coin shall come. 
As the demon fled the chamber 
Where the fish of Tobit lay, 
55 So ours from all our dwellings 
Shall frighten Want away. 

Though the mist upon our jackets 
In the bitter air congeals. 

And our lines wind stiff and slowly 
60 From off the frozen reels; 

Though the fog be dark around us, 
And the storm blow high and loud. 

We will whistle down the wild wind. 
And laugh beneath the cloud I 



THE LUMBERMEN 59 

65 In the darkness as in daylight, 
On the water as on land, 
God's eye is looking on us, 

And beneath us is His hand! 
Death will find us soon or later, 
70 On the deck or in the cot; 
And we cannot meet him better 
Than in working out our lot. 

Hurrah! hurrah! the west-wind 
Comes freshening down the bay, 
75 The rising sails are fiUing; 

Give way, my lads, give way! 
Leave the coward landsman clinging 

To the dull earth, like a weed; 
The stars of heaven shall guide us, 
80 The breath of heaven shall speed! 



THE LUMBERMEN 

Wildly round our woodland quarters, 

Sad-voiced Autumn grieves; 
Thickly down these swelling waters 

Float his fallen leaves. 
5 Through the tall and naked timber, 

Column-Hke and old. 
Gleam the sunsets of November, 

From their skies of gold. 



60 SONGS OF LABOR 

O^er us, to the southland heading^ 
10 Screams the gray wild-goose; 

On the night-frost sounds the treading 

Of the brindled moose. 
Noiseless creeping, while we're sleeping, 
Frost his task- work plies; 
15 Soon, his icy bridges heaping, 
Shall our log-piles rise. 

When, with sounds of smothered thunder, 

On some night of rain. 
Lake and river break asunder 
20 Winter's weakened chain, 

Down the wild March flood shall bear them 

To the saw-mill's wheel. 
Or where Steam, the slave, shall tear them 

With his teeth of steel. 

25 Be it starhght, be it moonhght. 
In these vales below. 
When the earliest beams of sunlight 

Streak the mountain's snow, 
Crisps the hoar-frost, keen and early, 
30 To our hurrying feet, 
And the forest echoes clearly 
All our blows repeat. 

Where the crystal Ambijejis 
Stretches broad and clear, 
35 And Millnoket's pine-black ridges 
Hide the browsing deer: 




THE PINE TREE 
THE SUBJECT OF ONE OP WHITTIEK's POEMS 

61 



62 SONGS OF LABOR 

Where, through lakes and wild morasses, 

Or through rocky walls, 
Swift and strong, Penobscot passes 
40 White with foamy falls; 

Where, through clouds, are glimpses given 

Of Katahdin's sides, — 
Rock and forest piled to heaven, 

Torn and ploughed by shdes! 
45 Far below, the Indian trapping, 

In the sunshine warm; 
Far above, the snow-cloud wrapping 

Half the peak in storm! 

Where are mossy carpets better 
50 Than the Persian weaves, 

And than Eastern perfumes sweeter 

Seem the fading leaves; 
And a music mild and solemn, 
From the pine-tree's height, 
55 Rolls its vast and sea-like volume 
On the wind of night; 

Make we here our camp of winter; 

And, through sleet and snow. 
Pitchy knot and beechen splinter 
60 On our hearth shall glow. 
Here, with mirth to lighten duty. 

We shall lack alone 
Woman's smile and girlhood's beauty, 

Childhood's lisping tone. 



THE LTJMMJRMM 6S 

65 But their hearth is brighter burning 
For our toil to-day; 
And the welcome of returning 

Shall one loss repay. 
When, like seamen from the waters, 
70 From the woods we come, 

Greeting sisters, wives, and daughters, 
Angels of our home! 

Not for us the measured ringing 
From the village spire, 
75 Not for us the Sabbath singing 
Of the sweet- voiced choir; 
Ours the old, majestic temple. 

Where God's brightness shines 
Down the dome so grand and ample, 
80 Propped by lofty pines! 

Through each branch-enwoven skylight, 

Speaks He in the breeze. 
As of old beneath the twihght 

Of lost Eden's trees! 
85 For His ear, the inward feeling 

Needs no outward tongue; 
He can see the spirit kneeling 

While the axe is swung. 

Heeding truth alone, and turning 
90 From the false and dim, 
Lamp of toil or altar burning 
Are alike to Him. 



64 SONGS OF LABOR 

Strike, then, comrades! Trade is waiting 
On our rugged toil; 
95 Far ships waiting for the freighting 
Of our woodland spoil! 

Ships, whose traffic links these highlands, 

Bleak and cold, of ours, 
With the citron-planted islands 
100 Of a clime of flowers; 

To our frosts the tribute bringing 

Of eternal heats; 
In our lap of winter flinging 

Tropic fruits and sweets. 

105 Cheerily, on the axe of labor. 
Let the sunbeams dance, 
Better than the flash of sabre 

Or the gleam of lance! 
Strike! With every blow is given 
110 Freer sun and sky. 

And the long-hid earth to heaven 
Looks, with wondering eye! 

Loud behind us grow the murmurs 
Of the age to come; 
115 Clang of smiths, and tread of farmers, 
Bearing harvest home! 
Here her virgin lap with treasures 

Shall the green earth fill; 
Waving wheat and golden maize-ears 
120 Crown each beechen hill. 



THE LUMBERMEN 65 

Keep who will the city's alleys, 

Take the smooth-shorn plain; 
Give to us the cedar valleys, 

Rocks and hills of Maine! 
125 In our North-land, wild and woody, 

Let us still have part: 
Rugged nurse and mother sturdy 

Hold us to thy heart! 

Oh, our free hearts beat the warmer 
130 For thy breath of snow; 
And our tread is all the firmer 

For thy rocks below. 
Freedom, hand in hand with Labor, 
Walketh strong and brave; 
135 On the forehead of his neighbor 
No man writeth Slave! 

Lo, the day breaks! old Katahdin's 

Pine-trees show its fires. 
While from these dim forest gardens 
140 Rise their blackened spires. 
Up, my comrades! up and doing! 

Manhood's rugged play 
Still renewing, bravely hewing 

Through the world our way! 



Q6 SONGS OF LABOR 



THE SHIP-BUILDERS 

The sky is ruddy in the east, 

The earth is gray below, 
And spectral in the river-mist, 

The ship's white timbers show. 
5 Then let the sounds of measured stroke 

And grating saw begin; 
The broad-axe to the gnarled oak, 

T.be mallet to the pin! 

Hark ! roars the bellows, blast on blast, 
10 The sooty smithy jars, 

And fire-sparks, rising far and fast. 

Are fading with the stars. 
All day for us the smith shall stand 
Beside that flashing forge; 
15 All day for us his heavy hand 
The groaning anvil scourge. 

From far-off hills, the panting team 

For us is toiling near; 
For us the raftsmen down the stream 
20 Their island barges steer. 

Rings out for us the axe-man's stroke 

In forests old and still; 
For us the century-circled oak 

Falls crashing down his hill. 



THE SHIF-BUILDERS 67 

25 Up! up! in nobler toil than ours 
No craftsmen bear a part: 
We make of Nature's giant powers 

The slaves of human Art. 
Lay rib to rib and beam to beam, 
30 And drive the treenails free; 

Nor faithless joint nor yawning seam 
Shall tempt the searching sea! 

Where'er the keel of our good ship 
The sea's rough field shall plough; 
35 Where'er her tossing spars shall drip 
With salt-spray caught below; 
That ship must heed her master's beck, 

Her helm obey his hand, 
And seamen tread her reefing deck 
40 As if they trod the land. 

Her oaken ribs the vulture-beak 

Of Northern ice may peel; 
The sunken rock and coral peak 

May grate along her keel; 
45 And know we well the painted shell 

We give the wind and wave, 
Must float, the sailor's citadel. 

Or, sink, the sailor's grave! 

Ho! strike away the bars and blocks, 
50 And set the good ship free ! 
Why lingers on these dusty rocks 
The young bride of the sea? 



68 SONGS OF LABOR 

Look! how she moves adown the grooves, 
In graceful beauty now! 
55 How lowly on the breast she loves 
Sinks down her virgin prow! 

God bless her! whereso'er the breeze 

Her snowy wing shall fan, 
Aside, the frozen Hebrides 
60 Or sultry Hindostan! 

Where'er, in mart or on the main, 

With peaceful flag unfurled, 
She helps to wind the silken chain 

Of commerce round the world! 

65 Speed on the ship ! But let her bear 
No merchandise of sin, 
No groaning cargo of despair 

Her roomy hold within; 
No Lethean drug for Eastern lands, 
70 Nor poison-draught for ours; 
But honest fruits of toiling hands 
And Nature's sun and showers. 

Be hers the Prairie's golden grain. 
The Desert's golden sand, 
75 The clustered fruits of sunny Spain, 
The spice of Morning-land! 
Her pathway on the open main 

May blessings follow free. 
And glad hearts welcome back again 
80 Her white sails from the sea I 



THE DROVERS 69 



THE DROVERS 

Through heat and cold, and shower and sun, 

Still onward cheerily driving ! 
There's life alone in duty done. 

And rest alone in striving. 
5 But see ! the day is closing cool. 

The woods are dim before us; 
The white fog of the wayside pool 

Is creeping slowly o'er us. 

The night is falling, comrades mine, 
10 Our footsore beasts are weary. 
And through yon elms the tavern sign 

Looks out upon us cheery. 
The landlord beckons from his door, 
His beechen fire is glowing; 
15 These ample barns, with feed in store. 
Are filled to overflowing. 

From many a valley frowned across 
By brows of rugged mountains; 

From hillsides where, through spongy moss, 
20 Gush out the river fountains; 

From quiet farm-fields, green and low, 
And bright with blooming clover; 

From vales of corn the wandering crow 
No richer hovers over, — 



70 SONGS OF LABOR 

25 Day after day our way has been 
O'er many a hill and hollow; 
By lake and stream, by wood and glen, 

Our stately drove we follow. 
Through dust-clouds rising thick and dun, 
30 A smoke of battle o'er us, 

Their white horns glisten in the sun, 
Like plumes and crests before us. 

We see them slowly climb the hill, 
As slow behind it sinking; 
35 Or, thronging close, from roadside rill. 
Or sunny lakelet, drinking. 
Now crowding in the narrow road. 

In thick and struggling masses. 
They glare upon the teamster's load, 
40 Or rattling coach that passes. 

Anon, with toss of horn and tail. 

And paw of hoof, and bellow, 
They leap some farmer's broken pale. 

O'er meadow-close or fallow. 
45 Forth comes the startled goodman; forth 

Wife, children, house-dog, sally; 
Till once more on their dusty path 

The baffled truants rally. 

We drive no starvelings, scraggy grown, 
50 Loose-legged, and ribbed and bony. 
Like those who grind their noses down 
On pastures bare and stony, — 



THE DROVERS 71 

Lank oxen, rough as Indian dogs, 
And cows too lean for shadows, 
55 Disputing feebly with the frogs 
The crop of saw-grass meadows! 

In our good drove, so sleek and fair. 

No bones of leanness rattle, 
No tottering hide-bound ghosts are there, 
60 Or Pharaoh's evil cattle. 

Each stately beeve bespeaks the hand 

That fed him unrepining; 
The fatness of a goodly land 

In each dun hide is shining. 

65 We've sought them where, in warmest nooks, 
The freshest feed is growing, 
By sweetest springs and clearest brooks 

Through honeysuckle flowing; 
Wherever hillsides, sloping south, 
70 Are bright with early grasses, 

Or, tracking green the lowland's drouth. 
The mountain streamlet passes. 

But now the day is closing cool 
The woods are dim before us, 
75 The white fog of the wayside pool 
Is creeping slowly o'er us. 
The cricket to the frog's bassoon 

His shrillest time is keeping; 

The sickle of yon setting moon 

80 The meadow-mist is reaping. 



72 SONGS OF LABOR 

The night is falling, comrades mine, 

Our footsore beasts are weary, 
And through yon elms the tavern sign 

Looks out upon us cheery. 
85 To-morrow, eastward with our charge 

We'll go to meet the dawning. 
Ere yet the pines of Kearsarge 

Have seen the sun of morning. 

When snow-flakes o'er the frozen earth, 
90 Instead of birds, are flitting; 

When children throng the glowing hearth, 

And quiet wives are knitting; 
While in the firelight strong and clear 
Young eyes of pleasure glisten, 
95 To tales of all we see and hear 
The ears of home shall listen. 

By many a Northern lake and hill, 
From many a mountain pasture. 

Shall fancy play the Drover still, 
100 And speed the long night faster. 

Then let us on, through shower and sun, 
And heat and cold, be driving; 

There's life alone in duty done. 
And rest alone in striving. 



THE HUSKERS 73 



THE HUSKERS 

It was late in mild October, and the long autumnal 
rain 

Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with 
grass again; 

The first sharp frost had fallen, leaving all the 
woodlands gay 

With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadow- 
flowers of May. 

5 Through a thin, dry mist, that morning, the sun 
rose broad and red. 

At first a rayless disk of fire, he brightened as he 
sped; 

Yet, even his noontide glory fell chastened and sub- 
dued, 

On the cornfields and the orchards, and softly pic- 
tured wood. 

And all that quiet afternoon, slow sloping to the 
night, 
10 He wove with golden shuttle the haze with yellow 

light; 
Slanting through the painted beeches, he glorified 

the hill; 
And, beneath it, pond and meadow lay brighter, 

greener still. 



74 SONGS OF LABOR 

And shouting boys in woodland haunts caught 

glimpses of that sky, 
Flecked by the many-tinted leaves, and laughed, 

they knew not why; 
15 And school-girls, gay with aster-flowers, beside the 

meadow brooks. 
Mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of 

sweet looks. 

From spire and barn looked westerly the patient 

weathercocks; 
But even the birches on the hill stood motionless 

as rocks. 
No sound was in the woodlands, save the squirreFs 

dropping shell, 
20 And the yellow leaves among the boughs, low rustling 

as they fell. 

The summer grains were harvested; the stubble 

fields lay dry, 
Where June winds rolled, in Hght and shade, the 

pale green waves of rye; 
But still, on gentle hill-slopes, in valleys fringed 

with wood, 
Ungathered, bleaching in the sun, the heavy corn 

crop stood. 

25 Bent low, by autumn's wind and rain, through husks 
that, dry and sere, 
Unfolded from their ripened charge, shone out the 
yellow ear; 



THE HUSKERS 75 

Beneath, the turnip lay concealed, in many a ver- 
dant fold, 

And glistened in the slanting light the pumpkin's 
sphere of gold. 

There wrought the busy harvesters; and many a 
creaking wain 
30 Bore slowly to the long barn-floor its load of husk 
and grain; 

Till broad and red, as when he rose, the sun sank 
down, at last. 

And like a merry guest's farewell, the day in bright- 
ness passed. 

And lo! as through the western pines, on meadow, 
stream, and pond. 

Flamed the red radiance of a sky, set all afire be- 
yond, 
35 Slowly o'er the eastern sea-bluffs a milder glory 
shone. 

And the sunset and the moonrise were mingled into 
one! 

As thus into the quiet night the twihght lapsed 

away. 
And deeper in the brightening moon the tranquil 

shadows lay; 
From many a brown old farm-house, and hamlet 

without name, 
40 Their milking and their home-tasks done, the merry 

buskers came. 



76 SONGS OF LABOR 

Swung o'er the heaped-up harvest, from pitchforks 

in the mow, 
Shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant 

scene below; 
The growing pile of husks behind, the golden ears 

before, 
And laughing eyes and busy hands and brown 

cheeks glimmering o'er. 

45 Half hidden, in a quiet nook, serene of look and 

heart. 
Talking their old times over, the old men sat apart; 
While, up and down the unhusked pile, or nestling 

in its shade. 
At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, the happy 

children played. 

Urged by the good host's daughter, a maiden young 

and fair, 
50 Lifting to light her sweet blue eyes and pride of 

soft brown hair. 
The master of the village school, sleek of hair and 

smooth of tongue, 
To the quaint tune of some old psalm, a husking- 

ballad sung. 



THE CORN -SONG 77 



THE CORN-SONG 

Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! 

Heap high the golden corn! 
No richer gift has Autumn poured 

From out her lavish horn! 

5 Let other lands, exulting, glean 
The apple from the pine, 
The orange from its glossy green, 
The cluster from the vine; 

We better love the hardy gift 
10 Our rugged vales bestow. 

To cheer us when the storm shall drift 
Our harvest fields with snow. 

Through vales of grass and meads of flowers, 
Our ploughs their furrows made, 
15 While on the hills the sun and showers 
Of changeful April played. 

We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain, 

Beneath the sun of May, 
And frightened from our sprouting grain 
20 The robber crows away. 



78 SONGS OF LABOR 

All through the long, bright days of June 
Its leaves grew green and fair, 

And waved in hot midsummer's noon 
Its soft and yellow hair. 

25 And now, with autumn's moonlit eves, 
Its harvest time has come. 
We pluck away the frosted leaves. 
And bear the treasure home. 

There, richer than the fabled gift 
30 Apollo showered of old, 

Fair hands the broken grain shall sift, 
And knead its meal of gold. 

Let vapid idlers loll in silk 
Around their costly board; 
35 Give us the bowl of samp and milk, 
By homespun beauty poured! 

Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth 

Sends up its smoky curls. 
Who will not thank the kindly earth, 
40 And bless our farmer girls? 

4 

Then shame on all the proud and vain. 
Whose folly laughs to scorn 

The blessing of our hardy grain, 
Our wealth of golden corn! 



THE CORN-SONG 79 

45 Let earth withhold her goodly root, 
Let mildew blight the rye, 
Give to the worm the orchard's fruit, 
The wheat-field to the fly : 

But let the good old crop adorn 
50 The hills our fathers trod; 
Still let us, for His golden corn, 
Send up our thanks to God! 



JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

His Boyhood 

John Greenleaf Whittier was born in the East Parish of 
Haverhill, Essex County, Massachusetts, on December 17, 1807. 
The founder of the Whittier family in America was Thomas 
Whittier, who was born in 1620, the year the Pilgrims landed at 
Plymouth. 

In the course of time, Thomas Whittier built a log house at 
East Haverhill not far from the site of the "Whittier Home- 
stead." He married a relative by the name of Ruth Flint. 
They had ten children, five of whom were boys, each of whom 
was six feet in height. In 1696, when Thomas Whittier died, 
his youngest son, Joseph, remained on the farm. He married 
Sarah Greenleaf, of the town of West Newbury, and, following 
the example of his father, he remained at the old homestead and 
tilled the soil. They had eleven children, the youngest two of 
whom were John and Moses. John and Moses at the death of 
their father bought the interests of the other heirs of the estate 
and became joint owners of the farm. Moses never married 
and lived in the family of his brother John. John Whittier was 
born in 1760, and at the age of forty-four married Abigail Hussey. 
They had four children: Mary, born in 1806; John Greenleaf, 
born in 1807; Matthew Franklin, born in 1812; and Elizabeth 
Hussey, born in 1815. John Greenleaf was, therefore, the 
great-great-grandson of Thomas W^hittier, the heroic pioneer. 

The poet's middle name came from his paternal grandmother, 
Sarah Greenleaf, about whom he wrote a ballad, entitled "A 
Name." In this poem he tells us that the name was originally 
French, feuille verte, green leaf, with the suggestion that his 
ancestors at one time might have been keepers of the forest. 

81 



82 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

The house is still standing in which Whittier was born. It 
is a typical New England house of the pioneer type, and to this 
day is so sheltered from the world that no neighbor's roof has 
ever been in sight from it. In "Snow-bound," Whittier speaks 
of this isolation: 

" No church-bell lent its Christian tone 
To the savage air; no social smoke 
Curled over woods of snow-hung oak." 

In 1843, Whittier published the following sketch of the home 
of his youth: 

"Our old homestead (the house was very old for a new 
country, having been built about the time that the Prince of 
Orange drove out James, the Second) nestled under a long range 
of hills which stretched off to the west. It was surrounded by 
woods in all directions, save to the southeast, where a break in 
the leafy wall revealed a vista of low, green meadows, picturesque 
with wooded islands and jutting capes of upland. Through 
these a small brook, noisy enough as it foamed, rippled, and 
laughed down its rocky falls by our garden-side, wound, silently 
and scarcely visible, to a still larger stream, known as the Country 
Brook. This brook, in its turn, after doing duty at two or three 
saw and grist mills, the clack of which we could hear across the 
intervening woodlands, found its way to the great river, and the 
river took it up and bore it down to the great sea. . . . 

" The meadows had their redeeming points. In spring morn- 
ings, the blackbirds and bobolinks made them musical with 
songs; and in the evenings great bullfrogs croaked and clamored; 
and on summer evenings we loved to watch the white wreaths 
of fog rising and drifting in the moonlight like troops of ghosts, 
with the fireflies throwing up ever and anon signals of their 
coming. But the brook was far more attractive, for it had shel- 
tered bathing places, clear and white-sanded, and weedy stretches, 




whittier's home country 



84 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

where the shy pickerel loved to linger, and deep pools where the 
stupid sucker stirred the black mud with his fins. I had followed 
it all the way from its birthplace among the pleasant New 
Hampshire hills, through the sunshine of broad, open meadows, 
and under the shadow of thick woods." 

The house has an oaken frame, built of hewn timber logs; 
it is thirty-six feet long and is built around a central chimney. 
The kitchen, which was the chief living room, is thirty feet long 
and the great fireplace is eight feet between the jambs. In 
keeping with the custom of the times, the parlor was dedicated 
to Sundays and holidays. The floor was sanded, and on the 
wide benches placed around the fireplace the men sat at night 
telling stories while they whittled axe-handles or mended shoes. 

Whittier slept in the loft under the roof. He was a typical 
farmer's boy who enjoyed the pleasure of going barefooted. 
He lived at a time when hardships had to be endured ; money was 
a scarce commodity and the not over-fertile soil yielded a bare 
subsistence. This of necessity required the strictest economy 
and the simplest mode of living. The farm had to furnish the 
living for the family, while the mother had to supply the home- 
spun clothing from her spinning wheel. Young Whittier, while 
he inherited the physique of his ancestors, unfortunately did 
not possess the strength for this strenuous work. The barn, as 
Whittier has described it, had no doors; the winter winds whistled 
through it and the snow drifted on its floors. In this cold, 
exposed barn, Whittier had to milk seven cows, tended a horse, 
two oxen, and several sheep. The luxury of wearing warm 
clothes, particularly flannels, was unknown to this farmer boy. 
Neither' parents nor children wore them even in the coldest 
weather. His father believed that exposure to the weather was 
conducive of health and he called it the "toughening process." 
The ride to the Friends Meeting at Amesbury, eight miles away, 
on a winter Sunday without flannels, overcoats, or buffalo robes 
was as chilling as the interior of the meeting house. Whittier 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 85 

always claimed that his enfeebled condition could be traced to 
the exposure in his early days. 

At fifteen years of age he had attained his full stature, five feet, 
ten and one-half inches. He is described as having a slender 
figure, straight as an Indian, a beautiful head with refined 
features, black eyes full of fire, dark complexion, a pleasant 
smile, and a lively, nervous manner. 

His School Days and Literary Aspirations 

Unlike Longfellow, Lowell, and Holmes, who were specially 
educated, Whittier's formal education was scarcely greater than 
that of a country boy. He learned to read at home and during 
the winter months attended the district school, but was often 
denied that privilege, as he was needed at home to assist with the 
work. Until he was nineteen, the district school was the only 
one he attended, but he was hungry for knowledge and availed 
himself of every opportunity to get a substantial education.^ 
As he once expressed it, ^'I had in my childhood a great thirst 
for knowledge and little means to gratify it." Longfellow had 
the advantage which comes from extensive travel, but Whittier, 
while he knew the near-by villages, had never been to Boston, 
which was but forty miles aw^ay, until he was twenty. Longfellow 
enjoyed all the advantages of a college education supplemented 
by study in European universities, while Whittier had to content 
himself with the rudimentary education offered by the district 
school and the academy, Longfellow was a linguist of a high 
order, while Whittier was only acquainted with his mother tongue. 
Longfellow, through his natural inclinations and travel, had 
acquired the habits and culture of the world, Whittier found his 
dearest companionship among the spiritual circle of the Society 
of Friends. As Dr. Holmes expressed it, Longfellow ''tumbled 
among the books, whereas in the Whittier family books were as 
scarce as money." The Whittier hbrary consisted of some 
twenty books, largely of the dry journals and reUgious disquisi- 
tions of the Pioneers of Quakerism. It is stated that his first 



86 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

literary attempt in verse was a rhymed catalogue of the books 
in the family as follows: 

"The Bible towering o'er all the rest, 
Of all other books the best. 

"William Penn's laborious writing 
And a book 'gainst Christian fighting. 

'*A book concerning John's baptism, 
Elias Smith's Universalism. 

" How Captain Riley and his crew 
Were on Sahara's desert threw. 

"How Rollins to obtain the cash 
Wrote a dull history of trash. 

" The lives of Franklin and of Penn, 
Of Fox and Scott, all worthy men. 

"The life of Burrough, too, I've read, 
As big a rogue as e'er was made. 

" And Tufts, too, though I will be civil. 
Worse than any incarnate devil." 

"When I was fourteen years old," says Whittier, "my first 
school-master, Joshua Coffin, brought with him to our house a 
volume of Burns's poems from which he read, greatly to my 
delight. I begged him to leave the book with me and set myself 
at once to the task of mastering the glossary of the Scottish 
dialect at its close. This was about the first poetry I had ever 
read (with the exception of the Bible of which I had been a close 
student) and it had a lasting influence upon me. I began to 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 87 

make rhymes myself and to imagine stories and adventures." 
A few months later Joshua Coffin gave him a copy of Burns's 
poems which awakened and stiiuulated his slumbering genius. 
This copy of Burns's poetry was the turning-point in Whittier's 
career. It revealed a new world to him. It turned the whole 
current of his life. He began to plume himself for a higher 
flight. He was surprised at his success in making rhymes. 
Like Burns, he spent his spare time in giving free bent to his 
poetic muse. We are indebted to his sister, Mary, for having 
saved the following rhymes from destruction, which in a measure 
foreshadowed the sentiment and aspirations of the farm-boy: 

"And must I always swing the flail, 
And help to fill the milking pail? 
I wish to go away to school; 
I do not wish to be a fool." 

The young poet's ambition to get an education was soon to 
be gratified. His father, who believed that ''Poetry will not 
give him bread," frowned upon his literary inclinations, but 
his mother and sister encouraged his poetical muse. His sister 
is responsible for the publication of his first poem. Selecting 
one of his poems, called "The Exile's Departure," she sent it 
to the Newburyport Free Press. One day the mail carrier rode 
up to the farm and taking a weekly paper out of his saddle 
bags, tossed it to the boy who was mending a fence. With eager- 
ness he sought the poet's corner and to his great delight saw his 
printed poem. He was immediately sought out by Mr. Lloyd 
Garrison, the editor of the paper. At the time of Garrison's 
visit, Whittier was out on the farm engaged in hoeing. Under 
his sister's careful guidance, he soon presented himself before 
the visitor arrayed in a neat homespun suit. This was the begin- 
ning of the lasting friendship between these two remarkable men 
which in later years was to develop Garrison, as the leader, and 
Whittier, as the follower, in their great crusade against slavery. 



88 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

Garrison, recognizing Whittier's poetical genius, encouraged him 
to go on and at the same time to equip himself better for a literary 
career by attending some academy. Garrison finally succeeded in 
overcoming the objections of the lad's father. But where was 
the money to come from to pay for the tuition, as the farm barely 
supplied the necessaries of life? There is an old saying, "That 
where there's a will, there's a way." Whittier possessed the 
will and the way was soon provided. A farm hand taught 
the future poet shoemaking, and every spare moment was em- 
ployed in learning this trade. During the succeeding winter, 
the lad furnished the ladies of the surrounding neighborhood 
with slippers at twenty-five cents a pair, and with this hard- 
earned money he entered the Haverhill Academy in April, 1827, 
then in his twentieth year. He attended the academy for two 
years and this finished his education. The opening of the 
academy was celebrated by an oration and by an ode of which 
young Whittier was the author. His school life is commemo- 
rated in the following poems: "In School Days" (Evelina 
Bray, his school-day sweetheart) and "To My Schoolmaster" 
(Joshua Coffin). 

His Various Occupations 

I. As an Editor 

In 1828, we find this farmer-poet in the printing office of 
Collier, at Boston, whence he had gone to accept Garrison's 
offer to become editor of "The Philanthropist," the first tem- 
perance paper ever published. Subsequently, he became editor 
of "The American Manufacturer," established by the Colhers. 
For his editorial labor, he received the princely sum of nine 
dollars a week, and through the practice of great economy he 
managed to save about one-half of it, which was sent to his 
father toward freeing the farm from its mortgage. In August 
of the same year he was called home by the severe illness of his 
father. Whittier remained in East Haverhill until the death 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 89 

of his father and divided his attention between the farm and 
editing the ''Haverhill Gazette." In July, 1830, he went to 
Hartford, where he became editor of the " New England 
Review " with a salary of five hundred dollars a year. He 
remained here for eighteen months and made the acquaintance 
of Mrs. Sigourney, who was then in the height of her popularity. 
Ill health, against which he had constantly to struggle, caused 
him to resign his position and return to his farm at Haverhill. 
He then went to Philadelphia, where he assumed the position 
of editor of the " National Enquirer." He remained here for 
two years, when ill health once more caused him to lay down 
his pen. A year prior to this the Haverhill homestead had been 
sold and a neat cottage in the village of Amesbury had been 
purchased, which remained the poet's home until his death. 

In 1847, he became the corresponding editor of the "National 
Era" at Washington, D. C, which position he held for twelve 
years. Lucy Larcom, the Carey sisters, Mrs. Harriet Beecher 
Stowe, Grace Greenwood, and Mrs. Southworth were contribu- 
tors to his paper. It was in this paper, 1850, that "Uncle Tom's 
Cabin" was first published as a serial. Hawthorne's story, '' The 
Great Stone Face," was first printed in this paper January 24, 
1850, for which the author received the sum of twenty-five dollars. 

Whittier was also a contributor to "The Atlantic Monthly" 
from its beginning, and on his seventieth birthday the pub- 
lishers tendered him a banquet. 

II. Politician and Reformer 

"The poet in politics is something of an anomaly, but both 
Whittier and Lowell won their most conspicuous laurels in devot- 
ing their muse to the service of a political cause, which fact dis- 
tinguishes them from their fellows in American Letters." 

His advocacy of the aboHtion of slavery involved the sacrifice 
of his early political ambition. In 1883 he went as a Massa- 
chusetts delegate to the Philadelphia convention and was one of 



90 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

the signers of the Antislavery Declaration, He was the youngest 
delegate of the convention and was prouder of that fact than of 
all his verse. 

He was mobbed in Concord, New Hampshire, in 1835, when 
in company with George Thompson, the English abolitionist. 
On another occasion his office in Philadelphia was sacked and 
burned by a mob. 

''For twenty years," says Whittier, "I was shut out from the 
favor of booksellers and magazine editors; but I was enabled by 
rigid economy to live in spite of them. Thank God for it." 

III. As a School Teacher 

Whittier, not unlike many other people who have risen in 
the world of letters, the professions, or in the business world, 
used school-teaching as a stepping-stone to a higher sphere of 
usefulness. For a short time he taught a district school near his 
home at East Haverhill. 

IV. His Literary Career 

His literary career may be divided into two periods. In 
the first, his work may be characterized as an antislavery advo- 
cate; and the second, by his lyrics and ballads of rural New 
England life. It was during the first period, in 1849, that he 
published his first collection of lyrics, entitled, "Voices of Free- 
dom," in which "he gave vent to his soul without a thought of 
art or indeed of anything save his burning message." These 
poems have not their equal for vigor and fire and they exerted 
a great influence in moulding the opinion of the North. During 
this antislavery period, Whittier's best gift, as he expressed it, 
"was laid on the shrine of freedom." Nevertheless, he found 
time to write many songs and ballads of New England life, 
but when the Civil War was over he gave his whole heart to 
this one work. Bayard Taylor says: "We have no American 
ballad writer (Whittier) — that is a writer of ballads founded on 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 91 

our native history and tradition, who can be compared with him, 
either in the range or skilful treatment of his material. His 
ballads are nearly all from New England history and tradition 
-Pentucket," ''The Norseman," and ''The Funeral Tree of the 
Sokakis" are themes which deal with the very earhest times of 
New England; the many superstitions peculiar to that section ot 
the country are treated in " Cobbler Keezars Vision, The 
Garrison of Cape Ann," and the ''Double-headed Snake of New - 
burv " The pecuUarities of the Quakers are treated upon m 
"Cassandra Southwick," "The Exile," and "The King s Mis- 
sion." The many scenes and incidents of early P^^itan life are 
exemplified in "Mary Garvan," "John Underhill," "The Witches 
Daughter," "Abraham Davenport," "The Prophecy of Samuel 
Sewall," and "Amy Wentworth." Some one has said that he 
has so thoroughly woven the life and periods of Colomal days 
into these ballads that from them you might be able to write a 
complete outline of early New England life and history. 

His Closing Yeaks 
In his own home in Amesbury, he enjoyed the companionship 
of Garrison, Emerson, Bayard Taylor, Charles Sumner, James 1 . 
Fields, Alice and Phoebe Cary, Longfellow, Holmes, Celia 
Thaxter, Lucy Larcum, and many other illustrious people m the 
realm of literature. His summers were spent m the White 
Mountains or with Celia Thaxter among the Isles of Shoals. 
After the marriage of his niece, who had kept house for him tor 
many years, he went to Hve at Oak Knoll, in Danvers, with his 
cousins, Mrs. Woodman and the three Miss Johnsons. He 
always retained his legal residence in Amesbury. On September 
10 1892, while visiting his friend, Miss Sarah Gove, at Hampton 
Falls, the poet had a shght paralytic stroke, which was the begin- 
ning of the end. After five days of comparatively pamless 
ebbing away of strength, the sweet singer was at rest. On 
September 10, the funeral service was held at Amesbury m the 
plain, quiet way of the Society of Friends, as he had requested. 



92 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

The service was held in the garden behind the house. Lucy 
Larcum read "The Vanishers, " the first poem written by Whit- 
tier after his sister's death. "Lay Him Low" was sung by the 
three surviving members of the Hutchinson family. The poet 
Steadman spoke of the dead singer with a grace and aptness. 
The day was ideal, a cloudless September sky above, a wealth of 
autumn beauty all about. 

"There, from the music round about me stealing, 
I fain would learn the new and holy song, 
And find at last, beneath Thy trees of healing, 
The life for which I long." 

Traits of Character 

One of his most striking characteristics was his generosity in 
money matters. This is least expected from a man who during 
the greater part of his life had to practice the greatest economy, 
yet he was always willing to extend a helping hand. This is 
shown in a letter sent to a young authoress who had planned to 
go to her father in England : 

My dear H. 

I quite agree with thee as regards our friend and 

wd. be glad to help her. I have reserved the sum of $50 
for her when she needs it to go to England; but if she requires 
it now especially, I shall be happy to forward it at once, 
either to her or to thee, in which case thee can say that thee 
have received that sum of me for her benefit which will 
leave her but $50 to repay (she being then $100 in debt). 

Always truly thy frd., 

John G. Whittier. 

In the course of time when the sales of his poems became 
lucrative, his income was much larger than his needs, which 
increased his field for doing good. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 93 

He always had a warm heart for his fellow-man. His kindness 
is well shown by the following account from a man who had been 
entertained by Whittier in his Amesbury home. It was anony- 
mously pubhshed in the "Literary World" for December, 1877: 

"When I was a young man trying to get an education, I went 
about the country peddling sewing silk to help myself through 
college, and one Saturday night found me at Amesbury, a 
stranger and without a lodging place. It happened that the first 
house at which I called was Whittier' s, and he himself came to 
the door. On hearing my request, he said he was very sorry 
that he could not keep me, but it was Quarterly Meeting and 
his house was full. He, however, took the trouble to show me 
to a neighbor's, where he left me; but that did not seem wholly to 
suit his ideas of hospitality, for in the course of the evening he 
made his appearance, saying that it had occurred to him that he 
could sleep on a lounge, and would give up his own bed to me, 
which, needless to say, was not allowed. But this was not all. 
The next morning he came again, with the suggestion that I 
might perhaps like to attend meeting, inviting me to go with 
him; and he gave me a seat next to himseK. The meeting lasted 
an hour, during which there was not a word spoken by any one. 
We all sat in silence that length of time, then all arose, shook 
hands, and dispersed; and I remember it as one of the best meet- 
ings I ever attended."* 

Annie Fields, in her "Authors and Friends," says, "That 
Whittier's appreciation of his contemporaries was a strong 
feature of his character. His sympathy with the difficulties 
of a literary life, particularly for women, was very keen. There 
seem to be very few women writers of his time who have failed 
to receive from his pen some token of recognition. 

"There was never a moment of Whittier's life when, prostrated 

by illness or overwhelmed by private sorrows, or removed from 

the haunts of men, he forgot to take a living interest in public 

affairs and to study closely the characteri stics and works of the 

* Kennedy's Life of Whittier. 



94 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

men who were our governors. He understood the characters 
of our public officers as if he had Hved with them continually." 

He was very fond of animals and treated them with kindness. 
His father owned a pair of oxen, named "Buck" and "Old 
Butler." Young Whittier and these oxen were on very friendly 
terms. It is related that on a certain day he went to the pasture 
with a bag full of salt for the cattle. "Old Butler" was feeding 
on Job's hill and at once scented the errand of his young master. 
Down the steep hill came "Old Butler" on a dead run and gained 
such momentum that he could neither stop nor turn. This dumb 
animal, not wishing to crush young Whittier beneath him, 
gathered himself together and with a mighty effort leaped clear 
over the boy's head without doing any harm to the lad. 

His many excellent qualities of heart may be summed up 
under the following heads: 

Sweetness of disposition; 

Fondness for children; 

Keen enjoyment of his friends; 

Tender sympathy for suffering; 

Love of freedom and of country; 

Faith in God; 

Moral fervor. 

Read Ms description of himself in "The Tent on the Beach" 
and in the poem that prefaces his poetry. 

I. The Poem 

The Group Around the Fireside 

Our Father and Mother 

Surely there could not be a finer picture than that which the 
poet has given us of the group which sat around the fireside on 
the night of the great storm when the old house was snow-bound. 

Whittier' s parents were intelligent and upright people of 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 95 

limited means who lived in all the simplicity of the Quaker 
faith. Books were scarce. No library or scholarly companion- 
ship was within reach. There was one novel in the house, but 
it was hidden from the eyes of the younger folks, as books of 
this character were forbidden. In order to while away the long 
winter evenings, the family was obliged to entertain each other 
with story telling. The poem gives us an accurate reproduction 
of the inner life of this old-fashioned New England home. Here 
we have the family portraits drawn to life. The first of Whittier's 
"Flemish pictures" is that of his father, a plain, thoughtful, 
yet prompt, matter-of-fact man. "He was a tall, strong built 
man, who had been famous in his youth for the strength and 
quickness he displayed in athletic games and exercises. He was 
a man of very few words, but very decisive in his utterances. 
He was several times elected a selectman of Haverhill, and was 
often called upon to act as arbiter in settling neighborhood differ- 
ences. He was a devout member of the Society of Friends, and 
carefully observant of Quaker traditions. He had little or no 
sympathy with the literary tastes and aspirations of the young 
poet, who, however, found in his mother, sisters, and brother all 
the appreciation and encouragement his nature demanded." 
His father in early life had explored the vast wilderness which 
extended from New Hampshire to Canada; and sitting before 
the fire he told of his many adventures. 

"Our Mother," referred to in the poem, was Abigail Hussey, 
of Rillingsford, N. H. 

Mr. C. C. Chese, a neighbor of the Whittiers, describes her as 
a woman of natural refinement of manners. "Being a friend of 
my mother, she never failed when she saw me politely to inquire 
for her. Her language was always the same, "How does thee 
do, Charles? and how is thy mother?" Her face was full and 
very fair. Her bearing was dignified rather than lively. The 
word 'benign' best comprehends the expression of her features. 
She was loved and honored in the neighborhood." 

Abigail Whittier was a Christian woman and her plain spot- 



96 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

less Quaker cap and neat tidy apparel were in keeping with the 
simple faith that she professed and lived. The ministers and 
friends of her religious belief were always given a cordial welcome 
to her home. The yearly meetings of the Friends at Amesbury 
were largely attended. The Whittier home was a convenient 
place for many of them to stop over night, and on some occasions 
remained for several days in succession. On one night no less 
than fifteen of these people stayed there, and the saintly Abigail, 
with a smile on her face, made them all feel that they were 
welcome to the hospitality of her home. 

Whittier in one of his prose sketches relates how a foreigner 
whose appearance was against him came and asked for lodging for 
the night. Mrs. Whittier did not like the appearance of the man 
and sent him away. No sooner had the man left the house than 
she repented. "What if a son of mine were in a strange land?" 
she thought. John Greenleaf was sent to bring him back and 
found him standing in the road. "He took his seat with us at 
the supper table," says Whittier, "and when all were gathered 
around the hearth that cold autumnal night, he told us partly 
by words, partly by gestures, the story of his life and misfortunes, 
and amused us with descriptions of the grape gatherings and festi- 
vals of his country, edified my mother with a recipe for making 
bread of chestnuts, and in the morning, when, after breakfast, 
his dark sullen face hghted up, as he poured out his thanks, we 
marvelled at the fears which had so nearly closed our doors 
against him." 

Abigail Hussey was only twenty-three years of age when she 
was married to John Whittier, who was twenty-one years her 
senior. It will be thus seen that John Whittier was an old man 
when some of his sons and daughters were mere children. It 
was but natural that a man like John Whittier, who had long 
before placed behind him the rash impulses of youth, should try 
to have his sons avoid the indiscretions of youth by bringing 
them up in "the way they should go." Being a prompt, decisive 
man of few words, it was but natural for young John Greenleaf to 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 97 

go to his mother, from whom he inherited his brilliant eyes, for 
counsel and sympathy. She filled the poet's hfe with sweetness. 
The father died when the poet was twenty-five ; his mother was 
living when he was fifty. She became the guiding star of his 
life and when she died he "burned pure incense to her mem- 
ory upon the altar of his heart." 

Our Uncle 

The poet has characterized his uncle, Moses Whittier, as inno- 
cent of books, but rich in lore of fields and brooks. 

Moses Whittier, being a joint owner in the farm, was a mem- 
ber of the Whittier family. While he lacked the advantages of 
formal education, he was nevertheless an intelligent man. He 
was very fond of children and his nephews and nieces not only 
reciprocated his love, but were delighted to listen to his stories of 
the mysteries of the woods. The children always regarded him 
as a wise counsellor and often went to him with the troubles and 
trials of their own child life. His influence upon young John 
Greenleaf had a most wholesome effect upon his life and char- 
acter. Uncle Moses died in 1824 from the effects of an accident. 

The Aunt 

Aunt Mercy Hussey was a sister of Mrs. Whittier and lived 
in the family until her death in 1846. She was rightly named, 
for "mercy" was the promijient characteristic of her soul. 
She was a benediction to all with whom she came in contact. Her 
sweet disposition, her sympathetic ways, and her faithful and 
willing ministrations to the sick won for her the title "Sister of 
Mercy." 

Pickard says: "In her youth, according to the tradition of the 
family, she was betrothed to a worthy young man. Late one 
evening, as she sat musing by the fire in the old kitchen after 
the rest of the family had retired, she was impelled to go to the 
window and, looking out, she recognized her lover on horseback 
7 



98 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

approaching the house. As she had reason to suppose that he 
was then in New York, she was surprised at his unexpected re- 
turn and his call at so late an hour. Passing the porch window 
as she hastened to open the door, she saw her lover ride by it 
and turn as if to dismount at the step. The next instant the 
door was open, but no trace of horse or man was to be seen. 
Bewildered and terrified, she called to her sister, who listened 
to her story and tried to soothe her and efface the painful im- 
pression. 'Thee had better go to bed, Mercy; thee has been 
asleep and dreaming by the fire,' she said. But Mercy was 
quite sure she had not been asleep and what she had seen was as 
real as any waking experience of her life. In recalling the cir- 
cumstances of her vision, one by one, she at length took notice 
that she had heard no sound of hoofs ! It may be imagined what 
the effect was of all this upon the sensitive girl, and she was not 
unprepared, after a weary waiting of many days, to learn through 
a letter from New York, written by a strange hand, that her 
lover had died on the very day and at the hour of her vision. 
In her grief she did not shut herself away from the world, but 
lived a life of cheerful charity. She did not forget her first love, 
and gave no encouragement to other suitors." 

" Before her still a cloud-land lay, 
The mirage loomed across her way." 

The Schoolmaster 

The master of the district school was George Haskell, who at 
the time of the poem was a student "in classic Dartmouth's col- 
lege halls." He afterward became a physician. Later in life he 
became a resident of New Jersey. 

Another schoolmaster, for whom Whittier always held a high 
regard, was Joshua Coffin and commemorated in his poem, 
"To My Old Schoolmaster," is often taken for the character 
portrayed in "Snow-bound." 

It was Joshua Coffin who rendered a great service to Whittier 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 



99 



by lending him a copy of Burns which inspired him to ''hitch 
his wagon to a star." To use Whittier's own expression, the 
older poet woke the younger." 

The Sisters 
Whittier's elder sister, Mary, married Jacob Caldwell, of 
Haverhill, Mass. Ehzabeth, the younger sister, never married 
She lived with her brother until she died in 1864 at the age of 

^^Xderwood says: ''Elizabeth, the youngest and dearest 
shared his poetic gifts, and was a sweet, rare person devoted 
to her family and friends. Kind to every one full of ov for 
all beautiful things, and so merry when m good health that her 
companionship was always exhilarating. ^ ^^^^^^^ . 7^|"^^ 
her doing a wrong thing or having an unworthy thought. She 
was deeply rehgious and so were they all." 

Griswold says: "This sister was a remarkable woman and one 
of whom the world would have heard more but for her great 
moLty She was beautiful in person, delicate, dark eyed and 
possessed of exquisite taste in everything. The v^^^^^^^^^^^^ X^ 
bury still cherishes her memory and recounts her ^^^^ues^ The 
Te between brother and sister was of the closest kind and their 
Lme hfe for so many years is as beautiful as any recorded m 
literature After her death a niece kept his house for some time, 
but though she was all devotion to him, the old home was never 
home after the dear sister had left it." 

In "Snow-bound," which was written one year after her 
death, he expresses 'his great sorrow and his belief m their re- 

union. 

The Half Welcome Gdest 

The picture of this half welcome guest, Harriet Livermore, 
is bit d'rawn by the poet himself. He says: "She w^ a y^ung 
woman of fine natural ability, enthusiastic, eccentric, with shgh 
Tontrol over her violent temper, which sometimes made her 



100 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

religious profession doubtful. She was equally ready to exhort 
in school-house prayer meetings and dance in a Washington 
ball-room, while her father was a member of Congress. She 
early embraced the doctrine of the Second Advent, and felt it 
her duty to proclaim the Lord's speedy coming. With this 
message she crossed the Atlantic and spent the greater part of 
her long life in traveling over Europe and Asia. She lived some 
time with Lady Hester Stanhope, a woman as fantastic and 
mentally strained as herself, on the slope of Mt. Lebanon, but 
finally quarrelled with her in regard to two white horses with 
red marks on their backs which suggested the idea of saddles, 
on which her titled hostess expected to ride into Jerusalem with 
the Lord. A friend of mine found her, when quite an old woman, 
wandering in Syria with a tribe of Arabs, who, with the Oriental 
notion that madness is inspiration, accepted her as their prophet- 
ess and leader. At the time referred to in ' Snow-bound ' she 
was boarding at the Rocks Village, about two miles from us." 

His Brother 

was Matthew Franklin Whittier, who when a young man went to 
reside in Portland, Maine. He was a talented young man and, 
sympathizing with the anti-slavery feelings of the poet, became 
one of the foremost leaders of that movement. He wrote a series 
of letters known as the letters of "Ethan Spike of Hornby," 
in which he handled the slavery supporters in a very caustic 
way. He died in Boston in 1883. 

II. Character of the Poem 

It is a narrative poem because it tells a story. The chief 
varieties of narrative poetry are the epic, metrical romance, 
metrical tale, ballads, fables, idylls. This poem is characterized 
as an idyll. Considered as a piece of narration, ''Snow-bound" 
is a model of true, simple, and vivid story-telling. With the 
exception of "The Cotter's Saturday Night" there is hardly 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 101 

another poem that gives so vivid a picture of home Ufe. We 
can almost feel the approaching storm; imagine that we are one 
of the family group around "the clean-winged hearth"; we listen 
to the stories of the evening; and join in the sports of the school- 
master. Uncle Moses, Aunt Mercy, and the sisters are so vividly 
drawn that they become a reality. "The poem is real, but with 
the reality given by the brush of an artist." As a work of art, 
"Snow-bound" is well-nigh flawless. 

III. Time Covered by the Poem 
Three days and two nights. 

IV. Why the Poem was Written 

The poem was written one year after the death of his favorite 
sister, Elizabeth, and the poet availed himself of its construction 
to relieve the weariness of the sick-chamber. It was written 
at a time when his memory-mood was the strongest. 

V. Point of View of the Poet 

The point of view is that of a man fifty-eight years of age. 
Children do not see their home through the same eyes as old 
age. George Rice Carpenter, in his life of Whittier, has aptly 
said: "He, this old man who had been an East Haverhill boy, 
describes his homestead, his well-sweep, his brook, his family 
circle, his schoolmaster, apparently intent on naught but the 
complete accuracy of his narrative, and lo! such is his art that 
he has drawn the one perfect, imperishable picture of that bright 
old winter life in that strange clime. It was an old man, tender 
hearted, who thus drew the portraits of the circle of which he 
and his brother alone survived. The mood was one of wistful 
and reverential piety — the thoughtful farmer's mood, in many 
a land, under many a religion, recalling the ancient scenes more 
clearly as his memory for recent things grows less secure, living 



102 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

with fond regret the departed days, yearning for friends long 
vanished." 

VI. Characters Found in the Story 

The poet's parents, John and Abigail. 

Sisters Mary and Elizabeth, and brother Matthew. 

Uncle Moses Whittier. 

The Schoolmaster from Dartmouth. 

Half-welcome guest, Harriet Livermore. 

Queen of Lebanon, Hester Hope. 

The wise old doctor, Elias Weld. 

VII. Critical Estimates of the Poem 

"This exquisite poem ('Snow-bound') has no prototype in 
English literature, unless Burns's 'Cotter's Saturday Night' 
be one, and it will be long, I fear, before it has a companion 
piece." — R. H. Stoddard. 

"'Snow-bound' is our national idyll, the perfect poem of 
a New England winter life." — R. W. Gilder. 

"It is a quiet little New England interior, painted by a mas- 
ter's hand from love of his work." — H. T. Griswold. 

r "The most faithful picture of our northern winter that has 
yet been put into poetry." — Burroughs. 

"This pastoral gives, and once for all, an ideal reproduction 
of the inner life of an old-fashioned American rustic home; not 
a peasant home — far above that in refinement and potentialities 
— but equally simple, frugal, and devout; a home of which no 
other land has furnished the coadequate type." — Edmund 
Clarence Stedman. 

"The poet himself calls the scenes in 'Snow-bound' Flemish 
pictures; and it is true they have much of the homely fidelity 
of Teniers, but they are far more literal representations. The 
scenes glow with ideal beauty — all the more for their bucolic 
tone. The works and ways of the honest people are almost 
photographically revealed." — F. H. Underwood. 



A 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 103 

"It is not without perfect justice that 'Snow-bound' takes 
rank with 'The Cotter's Saturday Night' and 'The Deserted 
Village'; it belongs in this group as a faithful picture of humble 
life. ... All his affection for the soil on which he was born 
went into it; and no one ever felt more deeply the attachment 
to the region of his birth which is the great spring of patriotism ; 
... it is the New England home entire with its characteristic 
scenes, its incidents of household life, its Christian virtues." — 

G. E. WOODBERRY. 

VIII. Suggestions and Questions 

1. What is an idyll? 

2. Why is Whittier sometimes called the Burns of America? 

3. If you were snow-bound in some lonely farmhouse what 
ten books would you like to have to read? 

4. Name the poems associated with Whittier' s school life. 

5. Name five poems which show his sympathy with honorable 
labor. 

6. What connection has the quotation from Emerson with 
the poem? 

7. What is gained by the abrupt opening of this poem? 

8. What connection has "Snow-bound" with the poet's 
family history? 

9. Does the poem depict the painful or pleasant side of 
farm life? 

10. To which does the poet devote the more attention — the 
picture of a New England snow-storm or a New England rural 
home? 

11. What is the historical significance of the poem? 

12. Which of the talkers about the fire did not give reminis- 
cences? 

13. Why is this poem called a series of "Flemish Pictures"? 

14. Which passages show the sweet beauty of the poet's 
character? 



104 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

15. What facts for a biography of Whittier could be gathered 
from this poem? 

16. Does Whittier neglect to make known his position on 
the slavery question? 

17. What was Whittier's apology for writing the poem? 

18. Give the passages in which Whittier teaches the lessons 
of Christian charity. 

19. How do you get from the poem the idea of the self-depend- 
ent life of the family life in New England? the intellectual self- 
sufficiency of these people? their contact with the outside world? 
their social life? 

20. What is the prevailing hue of the poem? 

21. Describe the construction of a New England barn, ex- 
plaining the expressions: the "stalls," "mows," "stanchion 
rows," the "scaffold's pole of birch." 

22. What was Olympus and what place had it in ancient 
mythology? 

23. Is the picture of the approaching storm true to nature? 

24. Make an outline of the poem, noting each step in its devel- 
opment. 

25. Compare the schoolmaster in "Snow-bound" with the 
schoolmaster in "The Deserted Village." 

26. Note the passages in which he refers to his Quaker 
training. 

27. Describe a few paintings that might be made from 
descriptions in "Snow-bound." 

28. Describe the first day of the poem, dwelling upon the 
signs of the approaching storm and the evening occupations of 
the boys. 

29. Show how the atmospheric conditions contributed to the 
loneliness of the Whittier family. 

30. Characterize the uncle and the aunt, showing why they 
were such welcome members of the family. 

31. Compare and contrast the Whittier sisters. 

32^ Give a characterization of the "haK-welcome guest." 
IbWrilJ 

..J 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 105 

33. In what way may this poem be said to sum up Whittier's 
personal experience? 

34. Why has Whittier made so many allusions to the Bible? 

35. Explain the various allusions to Greek mythology. 

Bibliography 

Samuel T. Pickard, "Life and Letters of Whittier," Houghton, 
Mifflin & Co. 

F. H. Underwood's "Biography of Whittier," 1884, Osgood. 
W. S. Kennedy, "John G. Whittier," New York, Funk & 

Wagnalls. 

E. C. Steadman, "Poets of America," Houghton, Mifflin & 
Co., 95-133. 

E. P. Whipple, "Essays and Reviews," Boston, Ticknor, 1 : 
68-71. 

J. L. and J. B. Gilder, "Authors at Home," New York, 
Cassell, 343-355. 

C. F. Richardson, "American Literature," New York, Put- 
nam, 2 : 172-187. 

R. W. Griswold, "The Poets of America," New York, James 
Miller, 389-406. 

B. Taylor, "Essays and Notes," New York, Putnam, 294-296. 

B. Wendell, "Stellegeri," New York, Scribner, 146-202. 

Miss M. R. Mitford, "Recollections of d Literary Life," 
Harper, 334-340. 

M. B. Claflin, "Personal Recollections of Whittier," New 
York, Crowell. 

J. Parton, "Some Noted Princes," New York, Crowell, 319- 
323. 

Mrs. James T. Fields, "Whittier, Notes of His Life and 
His Friendships." 

Shepard's "Pen Pictures of Modern Authors." 

Theodore Wolf's "Literary Shrines." 

S. J. May, "Some Recollections," Boston, Fields, 258-267. 

G. W. Bungay, "Off-hand Takings," New York, Dewitt. 



106 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ^i^ 

M. W. Hazleton's "Chats About Books." 

Haverhill's ''Memorial of Whittier," 1893. 

Lowell's "Fable for Critics." 

"The Whittier Number of the Literary World," Dec. 17, 
1887. 

"Scribner's Monthly," Aug., 1879 (Stoddard). 

"The Atlantic Monthly," March, 1864; Feb., 1874; Nov., 
1892; Nov., 1894. 

" Harper's Magazine," Feb., 1883; Jan., 1884. 

"The Critic," Oct., 1892; Jan. 28, 1893. 

"The New England Magazine," Nov., 1892; December, 1892; 
June 1893. 

Allibone's "Dictionary of Authors." 

"The Cosmopolitan," Jan., 1894. 

"Chautauquan," 16:299-301 (Cheney). 

"The Century Magazine," 23 : 363-368 (Phelps); 8 : 38-50 
(Steadman). 

"McClure's Magazine," 2:125-129 (Bates); 7 : 114-121 
(Phelps). 

"Arena," 15 : 376-384 (Claflin); 10 : 153-168 (Savage). 

"Appleton's Journal," 5 : 431-434 (Stoddard). 

"Lakeside Monthly," 5 : 365-367 (Collyer). 

"Independent," 49 : 1258, 1259 (Pickard). 



